


Doppelgänger Series

by dylinski



Category: American Assassin (2017), American Assassin - Vince Flynn, Teen Wolf (TV), The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: (missing characters), American Assassin AU, Angst, BAMF Lydia Martin, BAMF Stiles, Canon-Typical Violence, Celtic Mythology & Folklore, Comedy, Crossover, Doppelganger, Druids, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Hurt Stiles Stilinski, Explicit Language, F/M, Graphic Depiction of Death (non main character), Kira doesn't exist, Liam doesn't exist, Lydia is 18, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Malia Doesn't Exist, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Relatively canon compliant up to 5B, Spark!Stiles, Stiles is 17, Teen Wolf AU, The Maze Runner AU, Thomas is 16, Triplets, Twins, inappropriate use of the term "doppelganger sandwich", just another day in beacon hills, mitch rapp is 26, quadruplets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-01-05 20:50:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 37,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21214880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dylinski/pseuds/dylinski
Summary: Scott rode his bike down the road, but almost fell off when he had to do a double take. He skidded to a stop and tore his helmet off as he looked back to the man he had passed that was walking down the street. For a split second he could have sworn it was Stiles, but that made no sense since he was the station. The man was tall and muscular which immediately gave away that he was probably imagining things. Then the man turned over his shoulder to look at Scott gawking and he was positive he wasn’t seeing clearly. It was Stiles, but it wasn’t. He had his face but with more scruff around his mouth and slightly more aged. His hair was covering his ears and framed his face, almost hiding the fact that he perfectly resembled Scott’s friend. “What the..?”





	1. Carbon Copy

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sure this has probably been done a million times before, but here's my take on it. Thanks to Alex and Alaina for all your help with this. (: You guys say you didn't do much, but your support means more than you know. There will be a part two, but we'll see how that goes and if I have enough to continue past that.

The sun shined through the window, splaying it’s rays across Stiles Stilinski’s face. He scrunched up his features and fluttered his lids in an attempt to adjust his pupils to the light. He stretched out wide, letting out a yawn that exposed his teeth. He sat up and hazily looked over the room and gave a crooked smile. Today was going to be good. No crazy supernatural shit, no end of the world scenario. Today was going to be normal and a nice break from all the chaos that frequented his life. He hopped out of bed, getting tangled in his covers and landed on the floor. There was a loud thump followed by a deep groan of more annoyance than pain.

A head peeked through his open door and squinted at the boy on the floor. “Son, are you okay?” His tone was slightly sarcastic and less directed at his physical state opposed to his mental one.

“Yup. Fine dad.” Stiles shot up a thumbs up while he attempted to untangle the mess he was in. His dad simply chuckled to himself and shook his head as he walked away with his coffee in hand.

The boy fumbled around for a bit and got ready for the day. He had a looming feeling that something was going to happen but pushed it back as he reminded himself, “No. Today is going to be normal. Just a normal teenager at a normal school with his normal werewolf best friend. Yeah, normal.” The end of the statement was more of a question than a statement, but nonetheless he was gonna have at least one normal day goddamn it.

———

“Aye yo, Scotty!” Stiles ran up to the side of his best friend as he squeezed his shoulder. Scott looked to him and smiled as he continued to walk down the hall in the direction of his locker. “So, I was thinking we could all hang out tonight as, like, a pack.” Stiles palmed the back of his neck nervously and made an unsure face when he spoke the last word. It was unfamiliar to him and he almost felt like he had no business using the term since he was only human. Scott couldn’t help but smile and raise an amused eyebrow at his spastic friend.

“Okay. What were you thinking?” Scott closed his locker and Stiles followed behind at his heels, helicoptering over him.

“Well, I didn’t get that far yet.” He scrunched up his nose and clasped his hands. Scott just huffed with laughter. Typical that Stiles only came up with half a plan.

“We could go bowling!” Lydia chimed in from behind the boys.

“Woah!” Stiles shouted and fell against Scott as the chirpy voice startled him, eliciting a laugh from both the others. After he straightened himself and swiped off his shirt, he gave her a glare. “Well I don’t think that would be fun since bowling with a bunch of werewolves isn’t very fair.” Lydia cocked her head and after a moment of thought nodded her head and agreed. Scott just shrugged his shoulders innocently.

As they entered the classroom, they all found their seats next to each other. Stiles leaned across the aisle towards Scott and spoke in a low tone as the teacher spoke. “What about a movie night?”

Scott looked over to him and rolled his eyes, “Stiles, nobody wants to watch Star Wars for the millionth time.” Stiles sat back and let out a high pitched whine and motions to his chest as if someone shot him through the heart. Scott rolled his eyes again and turned to try and pay attention to the lesson.

Stiles silently leaned over again, but Scott ignored it. “What about a game night?” Scott slowly turned to face him, his lips pulled in and eyes of annoyance. “Yeah, you’re right. Lydia gets insanely competitive.” Stiles slouched back into his seat and leaned into his hand while he tapped his pencil against his desk. He sat back up and raised his finger, opening his mouth to speak but was cut short by Scott.

“Stiles!” He motioned to the front of the classroom with his eyes and Stiles turned in his lips and fell back in defeat. He continued to tap the pencil as he tried to come up with something everyone could enjoy.

His phone started buzzing in his pocket, so he reached down and pulled it out keeping it hidden under his desk.

** _Dad: Why aren’t you in school?_ **

Stiles dawned confusion as he tapped away furiously on the screen.

** _Stiles: Dad, what are you talking about? I’m at school right now._ **

** _Dad: Then why did one of my deputies just tell me they saw you in town?_ **

“Whaaat?” Scott looked over to his friend with a brow peaked in question for his outburst, but Stiles didn’t see as he responded to his father.

** _Stiles: Well obviously they’re blind because I’m sitting in class right now._ **

His father didn’t respond after that, but Stiles was still puzzled as to why a deputy thought they saw him. After a couple minutes of thought, he forgot about it and moved back to trying to think of a plan for tonight. The bell rang and they got up and headed to the hallway.

“What about an escape room?” Stiles leaned against the lockers clinging to the straps of his backpack as Scott exchanged books from his own locker. He stopped to look at Stiles like he was an idiot.

“I don’t think Isaac would appreciate that.” Stiles opened his mouth with realization like it was just now occurring to him it was a bad idea. He scratched the back of his head and threw his arms up.

“Well I’m out of ideas! There is literally nothing to do in this town.” Scott agreed and then they went in separate directions to their next classes. They finished out the day and Scott went to work at the animal clinic while Stiles went to the station.

Scott rode his bike down the road, but almost fell off when he had to do a double take. He skidded to a stop and tore his helmet off as he looked back to the man he had passed that was walking down the street. For a split second he could have sworn it was Stiles, but that made no sense since he was the station. The man was tall and muscular which immediately gave away that he was probably imagining things. Then the man turned over his shoulder to look at Scott gawking and he was positive he wasn’t seeing clearly. It was Stiles, but it wasn’t. He had his face but with more scruff around his mouth and slightly more aged. His hair was covering his ears and framed his face, almost hiding the fact that he perfectly resembled Scott’s friend. “What the..?”

The man pulled his hands from the pockets of his jeans and turned up the collar of his jacket as if he was trying to shield himself from the staring boy. Scott jumped off his bike and ran after the man who looked like Stiles. The mystery man fastened his pace, which was quicker than the average person, but Scott was faster and caught up to him. He jumped in front of the man starstruck with his arms out and mouth agape while his eyes searched over him.

“Can I help you?” The man questioned and Scott let his arms fall to his side as he shook his head. The voice was familiar, but more gruff and deep. A seriousness that his Stiles never carried in his tone and posture.

“What the fuck?” Scott exclaimed. The unknown man slanted his eyes in annoyance as Scott continued to whisper obscenities. He tried to move past the boy but Scott stepped to the side with him. Scott took a few steps forward and sniffed, but his scent was different from his best friends. 

“Did you...did you just sniff me?” Scott realized what he did and what it must have looked like. His eyes were wide and he took a step back as the man's heartbeat picked up and he sensed anger and confusion.

“You..you just—“ Scott trailed off as he looked over his face, following the moles that were barely visible under the scruff. His moles and freckles plastered his face and were in the exact same places as Stiles’. That...that was impossible. All of this was impossible.

“I what?” The man looked as though he was losing his patience with the younger boy.

“You look exactly like my friend, Stiles.” He straightened up, still in awe of the person standing before him.

“What the fuck is a Stiles?”

“You. You’re a Stiles.” Scott pointed to the man and the person in question furrowed his brow, now irked by the statement.

“No. I’m Mitch.” Scott repeated his name, testing it on his tongue but it felt wrong and uncomfortable.

“I need you to come with me.” Scott grabbed his wrist and turned, but Mitch pulled back and tugged Scott into a choke-hold, but Scott had fast reflexes. He ducked down before his arm came down on his neck and ended up holding Mitch in a headlock. Mitch struggled against the young boys grip as a growl escaped Scott’s chest. Mitch should be stronger than the little runt, but no matter how much he struggled he couldn’t budge the hold. He tapped the kids arm and Scott released him tentatively. Mitch stood up and brushed off his chest and straightened his jacket. Despite the high tensions, Scott couldn’t help but laugh behind his hand as he remembered Stiles doing the exact same thing earlier that day.

“Look man, I’m sorry but I think you should come with me.” Scott reached into his pocket but Mitch stepped back and reached behind his back as if he was going to grab something. Scott stopped and held his hands up. “Dude, I’m just getting my phone.” Mitch relaxed and let his arms fall back to his sides but his heart betrayed his posture. Scott pulled out his phone and swiped across the screen until he pulled up a picture of Stiles. “I really think you should come with me.” He turned the phone to Mitch, who squinted at the screen, but his eyes widened and shock covered his face. Scott could hear his heart pounding in his chest and feared he was going to have a heart attack.

Mitch grabbed the phone from his hand and swiped through, looking at other pictures with the same kid in them, all identical to him when he was 17. “What the fuck is this?” Mitch stalked towards the boy, making him back up and he raised his arms in surrender. “Where the fuck did you get these?” Mitch shouted as he shoved the phone in Scott’s face and grabbed his shirt in the other hand.

“That’s my friend, the one I told you about. Stiles! He looks like you!” Scott defended himself and Mitch let go of his shirt and took a step back as he shook his head.

“No...he looks exactly like me.”

———

The baby blue jeep screeched as it skidded to a stop in front of the animal clinic. Scott called him and told him to meet him there but wouldn’t say why. All he said was that is was an emergency and he needed to get there as fast as possible. That was never a good sign. There goes the normal day, at least he was hopeful.

“Scott!? Scott!? Where are you?” Stiles shouted as he frantically ran into the clinic, arms flailing as he hurdled himself over the front gate. Scott was standing in the back room, a look of horror on his face. Deaton was there too, but looking inquisitively at a third man unknown to him. His back was facing Stiles, but he still knew he had never met him before. Scott looked at Stiles, speechless, and just held his chin in his hand shaking his head. “Scott, what is it?” Stiles’ voice trembled and hung at a whisper as he feared the worst.

Mitch turned around to face the brunette and as soon as he saw Mitch’s face he flew backwards. “What the..!?” He slammed into the wall behind him and rubbed his eyes, making sure they weren’t betraying him. He walked over to Mitch and leaned in close to his face, examining it. He looked to Scott and then back to the man who held a blank face. “Wha...what?” He palmed the back of his neck and dragged it up to scratch his head. Putting his hands on his hips, his mouth hung open as he mumbled gibberish, unable to form coherent words.

Deaton walked over to both of them and looked back and forth between the two. “You’re right Scott, they look exactly alike.”

“What are you talking about? He looks nothing like me!” Stiles protested. The man stood only a couple inches taller than him and had facial hair that want fully grown in. It looked as though there were permanent worry lines etched into his forehead and his eyes were dark and older than his face.

“Stiles, he looks just like you!” Scott walked over to the group trying to defend Deaton.

Stiles scratched his chin and tapped his foot. He saw the resemblance, and it was uncanny, but he couldn’t look exactly like him. That was impossible. “I have a lot of questions for my dad.” He used sarcasm to hide his panic, but he would know if he had a brother, he goes through all his dad’s stuff and he would never be able to hide something like this from him.

Deaton stroked his beard as the gears turned in his mind. “It is very common that people across the world have ‘twins’. They’re genetic make-up is somehow entangled and if you search back far enough, they are usually descendants of the same ancestors.”

“What…like a doppelgänger?” Stiles furrowed his brow, trying to understand what Deaton was saying.

“You’re familiar with the term then?” Stiles nodded at the doctor, but his knowledge was limited on the subject. “The word is typically used lightly since no one person is like the other, but…” Deaton trailed off as he continued to examine the two males in front of him.

“But what, doc?” Stiles rolled his arms urging him to continue.

“The definition of doppelgänger is ‘an apparition or double of a living person’. It’s origin is German and literally translates to ‘double-walker’. It’s described as not someone who just resembles you, but is an exact replica right down to the way they walk, talk, act, and other aspects of their personality.” Scott giggled and attempted to hide it behind his hand, but everyone heard and they all shifted their attention to him. He just held his arms up in surrender. He couldn’t help but think about how, despite Mitch’s seriousness and self-control and Stiles’ spastic and clumsy movements, that they still held themselves the same way and made the same faces. Kind of like the face they were both giving him right now, a raised eyebrow with squinted eyes that shot daggers.

“Well maybe we should see if there’s something about it in the bestiary and I can check the internet.” Stiles finally broke the awkward silence.

“I doubt there would be anything in there, but it doesn’t hurt to check.” Deaton walked away and went back into his office, most likely to do some research of his own.

“I’ll call Derek.” Scott pulled out his phone and walked to the front of the clinic, leaving the two identical men alone in the back room.

“Well, you’ve been eerily quiet this whole time. Are you not freaking out right now? BECAUSE I AM TOTALLY FREAKING OUT RIGHT NOW.” Stiles swung around while flailing his arms, trying to process all this new information. Mitch just stood there, planted in the same spot he had been since Stiles arrived, his face unrelenting and unrevealing. He was able to keep his composure, but internally he was having the same exact reaction of his younger self was in front of him. 


	2. Dead Ringer

Derek walked into the animal clinic with the bestiary in hand, very confused by the ominous request by Scott. When he entered, Deaton opened the gate that created the mountain ash barrier so he could make his way back to the rest of the group. Deaton seemed his usual self, but Scott was watching Stiles like he was waiting for him to snap, and he very much looked like he was going to. He reeked of anxiety and stress, more than usual, and had a look of horror on his face. His hair was standing straight up, as if he had run his fingers through it a million times. When he looked up to see Derek, his theory was proven correct as he did exactly that.**  
**

“What’s going on? Why does Stiles look worse than usual?” Derek directed his question towards Scott with raised eyebrows. He offered the large book to him.

Scott took the book from the raven haired man and shook his head, leaving his mouth agape like the words to explain escaped him. Derek looked back to Stiles who was pacing while rubbing the back of his neck and mumbling under his breath. He threw Scott a raised eyebrow, furthering his curiosity. Scott finally spoke. “Do you know anything about doppelgängers?”

Derek cocked his head to the side and gave him a quizzical stare. He now had even more questions than before. “I’m aware of the term, yes, but I’ve never heard of them actually being real.” He crossed his arms as he spoke, moving to a defensive position. “If you’re looking for that in there,” he pointed towards the book that now laid open on the steel table, “you probably won’t find anything. It’s typically used to record supernatural creatures.”

Stiles looked up to Derek from the book like he was an idiot. “A doppelgänger is a supernatural creature.” Derek squinted his eyes and gave Stiles a forced smile that was riddled with annoyance. Stiles looked back to the book with Scott, but stopped and raised his head up slowly. “Where’s Mitch?” 

“Mitch? Who’s Mitch?” Derek asked. Scott looked surprised, like the thought was just now occurring to him and he shuffled quickly out of the room with Stiles. Derek threw his arms up as he sighed dramatically. “That’s fine. I’ll just stand here like an idiot.” 

“You are an idiot!” Stiles shouted over his shoulder as he ran towards the bathroom behind Scott.

———

“Come on Mitch! Pull it together!” Mitch mumbled under his breath to himself as he tugged at his hair, staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. His hands fell to the edges of the sink, squeezing so tightly that his knuckles were white. This had to be a dream. There was no way this kid looked just like him.

The thing that makes this whole situation even stranger is that Mitch has no idea why he was here in Beacon Hills to begin with. The last place he would ever find himself or want to be was a small town no one had ever heard of in California. It was like something in him, a switch was flipped on and he suddenly felt a pull to this place. He woke up only a few nights ago and immediately knew he needed to go west and found himself here. He had no idea what he was doing, but something made him stay once he arrived. It still made no sense.

Mitch was a man of logic and reason, he needed to know and understand what was happening around him at all times. He needed to be in control and the only thing that made him terrified was when he wasn’t. Nothing about this situation or the people he met only an hour ago had any semblance of control. They looked like they knew just about as much as he did about what was happening. They mentioned a bestiary though… Why would they need that? They obviously knew something, but didn’t feel the need to clue him in. 

A banging on the door behind him threw his train of thought. “Mitch! Mitch? Are you still in there?” The voice was his own, but younger...his ‘mini-me’. Rolling his eyes and letting out a groan, he opened the door to look down at his more youthful self. Stiles clutched his chest like he had experienced a heart attack. “Oh my god. I thought you left.” Mitch just furrowed his brow and shot him a glare that read ‘why would I do that?’ “Oh, wow. This must be how Derek feels when I look at him like that.”

“Derek? You mentioned that name earlier. Who is he?” Mitch pushed off the doorframe to attain a more authoritative stance and Stiles ignored it. Obviously this kid has some issues with authority...oh God. The more he learned about him the greater he realized they were more alike than he cared to admit.

“Come on.” Stiles turned hastily and flew back into the room that now had a new face. “That’s Derek.” Stiles motioned towards the muscular stranger without even looking as he made his way back to the table with an open book.

Derek turned his head to see who Stiles was talking to and his expression was drained of everything but pure shock. His face went white like he had seen a ghost, which honestly was the best explanation there was for what he was looking at. Mitch walked over to him and they stood side by side, eyeing each other up and down. Stiles watched as they both held the same stance; legs slightly apart, perfect posture, and eyes full of distrust. In complete unison, they looked to him and Scott as they crossed their arms over their chests and squinted their eyes. They both said together, “I don’t like him.”

Stiles looked petrified and didn’t know whether he wanted to scream or laugh hysterically. Scott chose to laugh. He cracked up so hard he started to cry and when Derek and Mitch both glared at him. Scott started to cough because he couldn’t breath from all the laughter. He was finally able to slightly compose himself as he panted out to Stiles, “Are...you sure…he’s not...Derek’s doppelgänger?” He started laughing again and Stiles pulled his lips in and shot him an angry face. Both Mitch and Derek wore the same grumpy face and looked between the two younger boys with confusion, like they were just told the punchline of a joke and neither of them got it.

Stiles rolled his eyes and ignored Scott trying to bring the attention back to their current predicament. “Well, there’s nothing in here about two people looking exactly the same.” He sighed full of annoyance.

“I know. I told you that.” Derek retained his composure and spoke bluntly and Stiles closed his eyes and curled in his lips as he took a deep breath. Derek saw that face so often that he deemed it the ‘I’m trying not to punch you in the face because I know you’ll beat my ass’ look. It made him curl up the corner of his lips.

Obviously distressed, Stiles opened his eyes. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and saw that he had multiple texts from his father as well as several missed calls. He chose to ignore them as he looked through his contacts to find the name he was searching for. “I’m gonna call Lydia. Maybe she’ll be able to do her...,” Stiles waved his hand through the air to say the words that his lips lacked, “...thing.”

“Who’s Lydia? And what is her thing?” Everyone looked to Mitch while eyeing each other like they had some big secret they didn’t feel like sharing. “Look, you are all obviously keeping something from me. If it has anything to do with…” Mitch gestured lazily between Stiles and himself, “...then I think I deserve to know.”

Everyone looked at Stiles and he shook his head vigorously. “I’m not gonna tell him. He won’t believe me!”

Scott rolled his eyes at his useless friend and turned to Mitch as Stiles left the room to call Lydia. “Why did you come to Beacon Hills?”

Mitch thought about his answer for a minute, not entirely sure how to respond since he didn’t have a clue himself. “I guess I felt drawn here.” Scott’s eyes widened like something clicked. Derek was watching and listening to their conversation closely. 

Scott took a deep breath in preparation for his explanation. “Do you believe in the supernatural?” Mitch’s eyes looked crazed, like he had just been asked the most absurd question in the world. Scott took that as a no. “Well it’s real, especially here. They don’t call it Beacon Hills for nothing.” He let out a slight chuckle and Derek just raised his brows and nodded silently. “Somewhere in the preserve, there’s a giant tree stump—”

“A tree?” Mitch thought they had to be joking. A fucking tree? What does any of this shit have to do with a damn tree?

“Let me finish.” Mitch was surprised by Scott’s sudden sense of authority. He noticed that Derek felt it too, and submitted to it as well. It seemed like he was in charge, some sort of leader and no longer the lost teenager he had met earlier. “It’s called a nemeton. It’s a sacred place of power and worship for the Celtic druids. The tree once harnessed an unbelievable energy that was respected and coveted.”

Derek finally decided to cut into the conversation. “The power became the cause of many negative things here, so my mother had the tree cut down before I was born. It’s power was diminished and became dormant for almost three decades, until…”

“Until something happened last year. That’s a whole other story, but basically the nemeton got its power back and became a beacon again to all supernatural creatures, leading them here.” Stiles and Deaton both walked into the room, hearing the tail end of Scott’s explanation.

“I’m not a supernatural creature though, I’m human. I would know if I wasn’t.” Mitch seemed more accepting of this idea, but still hesitant. It was against everything in his nature to even consider what he was hearing and it was just the beginning of what they had to tell him.

“While that is technically true, being a doppelgänger would make you a supernatural creature.” Deaton stepped into everyone’s view. “I did some more research while you were all talking. Yes, you are human, but for some reason nature found a need to create multiple copies of the person you both are.”

“Person? What does that mean?” Stiles was rubbing his chin. He picked up on Deaton’s wording. Did he mean there were more doppelgängers out there?

Deaton sighed and looked to Stiles. “Most likely, Mitch is not the first person to wear the face that you both share. It didn’t occur to me earlier, but there is a legend that is shared among the druids.” Stiles glared impatiently at Deaton along with the others, waiting for him to share the story. “One of the first druids, thousands of years ago, was extremely powerful. He became greedy and wanted the ultimate ability and form of superiority; that of which contested the gods themselves. To be immortal. He spent years searching for the right spells and sources of energy to fuel the strength he needed to perform such a feat. In the end, he was successful despite everyone’s attempts to disway him and all the possible consequences that would ensue. The gods were not pleased with him and chose to punish him by sentencing him to spend his eternity alone and imprisoned. Mother nature did not take well to this either, for there must always be a balance; a life for a life. While he remained immortal, a version of him was created mortal to live and die a lifetime. With each death another was born to equalize the imbalance of energy.”

“So what you’re saying is, some asshole wanted to be god and we’re the result of that?” Stiles eyes were squinted in annoyance, trying to wrap his mind around this idea.

“Essentially.” Deaton nodded as if it was all matter-of-fact. Stiles just looked at him like it was all unbelievable as he shook his head. This was his life now, awesome. 

Everyone was startled by the jingle of the bell at the front door and Lydia appeared shortly after. She opened her mouth to say something, but stopped dead in her tracks when Mitch turned to meet her. She raised her eyebrows in less of shock and more of curiosity. She smiled and Mitch returned the gesture, but his was more flirtatious. Stiles immediately picked up on this and jumped off the table he was sitting on and ran over to Lydia. “Lydia, thank God you’re here.” He pulled her away by her shoulders to where Scott was, but Mitch kept smiling at her. Stiles glared at him, a look that could kill, and Mitch only found it amusing rather than intimidating.

Scott, Stiles and Lydia were all speaking in hushed voices and Mitch didn’t like it. He still had too many questions. He interrupted whatever they were arguing about when he had had enough. “Okay. So this nemeton is real and it draws supernatural creatures, which are also real, and I’m technically one of those creatures. What other creatures are there? Vampires? Unicorns?” He laughed as the question was asked, confident that neither of them in fact did exist. He still wasn’t sure if he believed anything they were telling him.

“No dumbass, unicorns aren’t real.” Stiles shot at him. “I already asked.” Derek chuckled and raised his eyebrows. Mitch was getting tired of Stiles shit and growled in his throat as he took a step forward.

“Then what is? What is she?” The annoyance was now evident in his voice as his patience was being tested. This was too much, it was all too much. 

“I’m a banshee.” Lydia crossed her arms and pouted her lips, picking up on his attitude.

“Banshee? What is that?” Mitch tilted his head and became less defensive.

Lydia pulled her lips in and started to look sad. “Honestly, I’m still figuring it all out myself.” Unlike everything else he had been told in the last couple of hours, he easily accepted her answer and dropped the topic.

Mitch turned to Scott and asked him, “What are you? I can tell you’re something.”

Scott was genuinely surprised that Mitch was able to sense that. Maybe because he was the Alpha. “I’m a werewolf.”

Mitch scoffed, amused at the possibility that werewolves existed. If they were real, wouldn’t have someone figured it out by now? With everything he’d seen in his life, wouldn’t he have found out? Scott looked down at his feet but then slowly back up at Mitch, his eyes now a blood red. “The fuck…” Mitch reached behind his back and pulled a glock from his waistband, pointing it straight at the boys head. Scott jumped back and threw his hands up, his eyes fading back to their normal chocolate brown.

“Woah woah woah!” Stiles pushed Lydia behind him as he shouted, his eyes filling with fear.

Derek immediately jumped to action, his fangs and piercing blue eyes now visible as he tackled Mitch to the ground. He pinned him to the ground as the gun flew out of his hands and slid across the floor. Stiles jumped to the gun, picking it up so that Mitch couldn’t get it back. Derek let out a deep growl that shook the room and Mitch winced, for the first time since watching Katrina die he was utterly terrified.

Despite the possibility of pissing his pants, Mitch kept a straight face and stared back at Derek unrelentingly. Scott ran to them and tried to pull Derek off. “Hey! Derek! It’s okay! He was just scared. Do you remember how scared I was? Stiles was? Stiles has the gun, he’s not a threat.” Derek hesitantly stood up as his fangs disappeared and his eyes faded back to their grey tint. His face still showed distrust, but he offered a hand to Mitch. He looked to the man towering over him and to Scott who nodded. He felt like he could trust Scott and that he needed to. He had a respect for him that he couldn’t understand. He reached up and grabbed the man’s hand and was raised to his feet.

“Why are your eyes red and his blue?” Mitch asked as he brushed off his jacket.

“He’s a beta and I’m an alpha.” Scott said simply as he shrugged. Suddenly it all made sense, the respect and trust. The shift in his dominance and authority. Mitch just nodded to Scott, but it was more than just accepting his answer, it was also his way of apologizing. Scott knew this and smiled as he nodded back, implying he was forgiven.

The tension in the room seemed to relax and fade as they continued to tell Mitch about other creatures like werecoyotes, kitsunes, nogitsunes, berserkers, wendigos, hell-hounds, werejaguars, and all the other things they’ve encountered. Mitch felt like his brain was going to explode as he tried to process all the information, but he had been trained to retain things quickly. He had a capacity to store data in his mind for later use when it could come in handy or even save his life.

Thankfully, everyone has been too distracted with the doppelgänger mystery to ask Mitch too many questions. He doubted any of them would take too well to his profession; an assassin. He was itching to get his gun back, but he didn’t want to raise any questions or bring attention to the forgotten object. Stiles surprisingly handled the weapon well when he picked it up. He flipped the safety on, popped out the clip and then cocked out the bullet in the chamber. He placed the clip on the table and the gun in his waistband, then the single bullet in his pocket. Stiles used to have butterfingers and didn’t know up from down when it came to guns, but he was tired of having them pointed in his face, so he asked his dad to teach him some stuff. It also came in handy since he was applying to become a deputy after he graduated, but no one knew about that yet, not that anyone would be surprised.

After discussing the existence of the supernatural world, Lydia finally decided to do her ‘thing’. She had Stiles stand next to Mitch and she walked over to stand in front of both of them. She rubbed her chin while humming, observing their similarities and differences. They shared the same face, but Mitch’s was older and harder. Their eyes were the same color, but Stiles’ were full of life and wonder while Mitch’s were sad and tortured. Stiles had spiked hair that been brushed through a hundred times with his fingers while Mitch had hair that hung down and covered his ears. Mitch was slightly taller, but that was partly due to the fact the Stiles hadn’t finished growing yet. They were the same, but different. The epitome of the eternal debate of nurture versus nature.

Lydia shook her muscles loose and closed her eyes, breathing in deep. Stiles looked nervous, but it seemed to be a natural state for him. She placed a hand on either man’s chest over their heart and her eyes immediately flew open. She stared blankly in front of her, like a deer in the headlights. She stayed like this for all but a few seconds and the gasped like she had been holding her breath. She flew back, breaking her connection to both of them and clutched her own chest. Stiles immediately ran to her and wrapped his arms around her asking if she was okay. Mitch stepped forward, but pulled back the urge to comfort her as well.

“Are you okay?” Stiles brushed a strand of hair behind her ear as her eyes darted around the room trying to get their bearings. She found his face and smiled cautiously as she nodded. His comfort was appreciated. “Did you see something? What was it?” Stiles tried not to bombarded her with too many questions, but he couldn’t help it. He needed to know. She looked down as he still held her and she nodded again, but her smile turned to a frown.

“I saw…you.” She looked up at Stiles and he furrowed his brow with confusion. She looked over to Mitch. “I saw both of you.” She turned her gaze to Stiles again. “But it wasn’t you.”

Stiles let go of Lydia and rolled his eyes. “Great. There’s another one.” Mitch couldn’t help but snort, not because he found it amusing but because that was his initial reaction as well.

Lydia scrunched up her face in disagreement and shook her head. “I don’t think so. He...he was different. He was locked away in some sort of prison, but it wasn’t a cell.” Stiles immediately turned back around to Lydia with wide eyes. Mitch squinted his eyes, not entirely sure he wanted to hear where this was headed...or what that meant. Lydia hadn’t heard the story Deaton told about the druid, so she was confused by both of their reactions. It was like they knew what she was talking about, and they did.

“You saw someone who looked like us? In a prison? That’s what you saw?” Stiles began to raise his voice, less out of anger and more of fear.

Lydia looked annoyed now and gave Stiles an attitude. “That’s what I said.”

“Was that it? Was that all you saw?” Mitch stepped towards her, but didn’t fully reach her, still hesitant of what his boundaries were. His tone was soft and rivaled Stiles’ panicked one. Lydia looked at him and frowned as she shook her head again. 

“What else did you see?” If Stiles wasn’t terrified before, he was now. Lydia looked uncomfortable and like she was in pain, struggling to get out the words. She didn’t know what any of it meant, but it scared her. When she saw things, it was more than just a vision, she felt them too. What she felt was darkness, death, and pure evil. She was scared to even speak. “Lydia. What did you see?” Stiles asked her a second time more gently.

She looked him dead in the eyes when she spoke, “He escaped.”


	3. Alter Ego

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to all the people who supported me and continue to!! i love all of you and i appreciate and love all of you guys who read and support me too!! i love all your comments. they’re what keep this story alive, so never stop. 🥰
> 
> i’m thinking about maybe starting some relationships (???) what do you think? i also apologize for the length, but i got distracted by subplot. i have been informed that it is in fact not long enough because it all happens so fast and is so intense, apparently.

“Well that’s not terrifying.” Stiles used his sarcasm to cover his true fear.**  
**

Scott crossed his arms and looked deep in thought, “So does that mean that the legend of the druid isn’t just a legend?”

“I think Mitch and I are already evidence of that.” Stiles scoffed. Scott glared at his best friend for the attitude, but he knew it was his defense mechanism.

“I can ask some of the other emissaries my family knows and see if they know anything.” Derek nodded to Scott and left. He hated being in the same room as Mitch. Something about him made him want to rip his throat out, but so did Stiles most of the time. That was more because he was annoying, but Mitch made him defensive, almost like another animal was infringing on his territory and presenting as a threat. Mitch didn’t like Derek either and neither of them could put their finger on exactly why.

Lydia left shortly after Derek and Deaton, leaving Scott, Mitch and Stiles behind. Mitch watched as they talked and mulled over possibilities and plans. He admired how well the pair worked together and that they were more like brothers than best friends. He remembered how he used to have that with Katrina, his fiancé.

They were vacationing in Spain for their anniversary when Mitch proposed. She said yes, which was a surprise to no one, but then something completely unexpected happened. There was a terrorist attack on the beach and she died. Watching the love of his life fade right before his eyes changed him. Before that happened, he was exactly like Stiles; sarcastic, full of boundless energy, hopeful and optimistic. Now, he was quiet and reserved, but still a sarcastic asshole.

“Hey Mitch, it’s getting late and we have school in the morning, so we need to head out.” Stiles pulled Mitch from his thoughts and back to the ridiculous reality he now lived in. He nodded and watched them grab their backpacks, then followed them out. Scott locked the doors to the clinic behind them and told them both that he’d see them tomorrow. He got on his bike, leaving them both behind.

Stiles waved to Mitch and told him he’d see him later and opened the door to the jeep. As he threw his bag into the car he turned to see Mitch standing in the parking lot with his hands in his pockets. He stepped down from Roscoe and scolded himself. He knew he should mind his own business and he would regret asking, but alas, when has Stiles ever had any sense of self-control? “Do you have somewhere to go?”

Mitch questioned the boy with his eyes, he hadn’t seen this side of him before. Since the moment they met, he had been defensive and a sarcastic little shit, but now he was soft and charismatic. He could tell that Stiles was genuinely concerned with his well being, showing him a kindness he hadn’t received for what felt like a lifetime. Mitch was a man of few words, so he shook his head and Stiles immediately sighed, unsurprised by the answer. He looked frustrated and scratched the back of his head while he thought. “I can just find a motel.” Mitch offered as he started to walk away.

“No….” Stiles trailed off and sounded hesitant. “Shit. This is probably the stupidest idea I’ve ever had, and that’s saying something, but come on.” Stiles walked over to the jeep and opened the passenger door and then ran around to the driver side. He hopped in and waited for Mitch to get in as well. Mitch looked around and decided to follow the boy. This was odd for him since he preferred to be alone, secluding himself from the world, but he felt like a part of him had been returned to him when he was with Stiles, like they were pieces in a puzzle that fit together perfectly. He still didn’t feel whole, but there was a sense of wholeness. He pulled himself into the passenger seat and shut the door. Stiles scrunched up his face as he turned over the engine and mumbled to himself, “My dad is gonna kill me.”

The drive to Stiles’ house was quiet and short. The silence wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable, it was just that neither of them had anything to say because they were both still trying to process the events of the day. When the jeep pulled into the driveway, they both got out and Stiles led Mitch inside. The house was dark and empty. “My dad is working the night shift so we should be alright for now.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and mumbled under his breath. “Oh shit.” Mitch raised an eyebrow and was told he could make himself at home as Stiles ran down the hall to his room. He shut the door behind him and sat on the edge of his bed as he tapped his dad’s name on the screen. Each ring was echoing in his ears as he tried to think of some excuse for ignoring him all day.

_“Stiles?”_

_“Hey dad.”_

_“Where have you been? You weren’t answering my calls or texts. We agreed that you would stop doing that. I need to know you’re okay, especially after…”_

_“I know dad. I know. I’m sorry, I just got distracted with Scott and…”_ He cleared his throat, feeling guilty for making his dad worry. He had been more protective since he told him about the supernatural and even more so after the nogitsune. _“Look, I’m okay. I just got home and I’ll do better. I promise.”_

_“Okay, son. Thank you.”_ They said their goodbyes and hung up. 

Shortly after, there was a knock on his door. He knew it was Mitch and told him to come in. He sat on the edge of the bed next to Stiles and they both sighed. “You can take the bed, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Mitch shook his head, disagreeing. “I can sleep on the couch.”

“I know, trust me. It’s just that if my dad comes home and sees you he’ll freak out.” 

“I don’t want to take your bed. I can sleep on the floor.” Stiles looked confused and tried to argue with the older man, but gave up when he realized he was just as hard headed as himself. He was too tired to keep arguing. He gave Mitch a pillow and blanket and fell asleep almost instantly. Mitch, on the other hand, had trouble sleeping. This was something he dealt with every night. He was lucky if he got even a couple hours each night, and Stiles’ snoring definitely wasn’t helping either. Surprisingly, he was able to fall asleep eventually.

———

_He woke up to the sound of crickets and a crackling fire. He sat up in the darkness that was simply lit by the flames and looked around to see a bunch of boys sleeping on the ground around him. He got up and maneuvered his way through the tangled mess of bodies and made his way towards the edge of the open field. He reached a hand out and touched the cold cement that was covered in vines._

_“What are you doing?” The young voice startled him, making him jump and pull his hand back in. _

_“I’m just looking.” He whispered, not entirely certain of his answer._

_“That better be all you’re doing, Greenie. You know the rules—”_

_“Yeah, yeah. Never go into the maze. I got it.” He put his hand to the hard structure in front of him again and ran his fingers across the bumps. He wanted to know what was out there; beyond. He had so many questions that no one would answer and most of them no one knew the answer to. The short curly haired boy smiled at him, so he forced a smile back in an attempt to hide his curiosity. He didn’t need to give them any more reason not to trust him. The sun was starting to rise and the cracking of the walls resounded through the large open area. The black haired boy ran past him towards the large doors that were now opening and disappeared past them. _

———

When Mitch woke up, it was 9AM and Stiles had already left for school. He took this time to snoop around his room and get to know his counterpart a little better. Posters and pictures covered the walls in no particular order, things from bands to movies and pictures of him with friends and family. One wall was entirely devoted to pictures of people and crime scenes that were connected by endless strands of red string. There was a gym bag full of lacrosse gear in the corner which Mitch found funny since he played in high school and college as well. His desk was a mess, covered in open books and papers about numerous things. While his room was a disaster, there was an order to the chaos. He saw a picture of Stiles at about 10 with a woman in a hospital bed on the wall and walked over to it. He wasn’t sure exactly who it was, but he could only assume it was his mother. It occurred to him that Stiles had yet to mention her. Was she not around? She didn’t look that sick in the photo, but anything could have happened. He stored this piece of information in the back of his mind.

Mitch made his way downstairs and found that the kitchen was pretty empty. He managed to find some bread and jam so he made toast. He roamed the house, exploring and analyzing everything, trying to find out who Stiles was. An hour passed and he had discovered as much as he could without digging beneath the surface, but he was content with the information he had. They seemed like a relatively normal family, but there weren’t many sentimental things outside of Stiles’ room. It appeared as though his mom was, in fact, not around and his father was hardly ever home. Everything was minimal and looked untouched, leaving the illusion of a generic home.

He finally went back to Stiles’ room and opened his laptop. He clicked on the command prompt icon and began to type in code. He used his skill to scour the web for any information about doppelgangers and druids, but despite his ability to hack, he came up empty handed. There wasn’t much out there besides myths and speculation or anything Deaton had already told them. Mitch could hear when Stiles entered the house, he was anything but subtle, so he exited out of everything and left no trace behind, then closed the computer. Stiles ran into the room, obviously distracted and with ambition. He ignored Mitch and went to his closet, throwing shirts and pants along with other random objects behind him as he searched for something.

“What are you looking for? And aren’t you supposed to be in school?” Mitch questioned as Stiles stood up with a smile and something in his hand.

“Yup.” He seemed unphased by the question, like it was normal for him to not be in class. He pulled open one of the drawers in his dresser and reached into the back and pulled out a set of keys.

“Why are you here?” Mitch’s curiosity was peaked at the boy’s actions. If there was one thing this kid had going for him, it was his ability to never make a moment dull.

“Derek called.” He continued to run around the room looking for things, leaning down and reaching under his bed.

“And?” Mitch was annoyed at his small attention span and lack of explanation.

Stiles pulled out a flashlight and sighed as he stood up. He looked to Mitch who appeared irritated. “Derek said he talked to the other emesaries and they all told him the same thing, that they didn’t know much except for what Deaton already told us. He also said that he got the feeling that Deaton knows more than he’s telling us.”

“So we’re going to go talk to Deaton?” Mitch questioned.

Stiles bit his bottom lip and squinted his eyes, “Not exactly.”

Mitch had only known the boy for 24 hours but already recognized that face and tone. He was scheming and, more likely than not, it was going to involve something illegal. To Stiles’ surprise, Mitch shot up and rubbed his hands together as he spoke, “So what’s the plan?” Stiles was so used to everyone questioning him before he even got started, but Mitch was on board before he even knew what he was getting into. A smile crossed his face and he started to explain.

“I think Derek is right, that Deaton knows more than he’s telling us and we can’t just ask him, obviously. We’re going to have to find the answers ourselves. Scott has mentioned that he has tons of books in his office about druids and stuff, so I was thinking that we get in there tonight and check them out. Maybe there will be something about what’s going on with us.”

“Alright. I like it. We’ll break in tonight.” Mitch had his hands on his hips and Stiles looked annoyed so he gave him a questioning glance.

“We’re not breaking in. I have a key.”

Mitch laughed, “How did you get the key?”

Stiles bit his lip and gulped, “I made a copy of the original...that I stole.” Mitch was anything but surprised.

They waited a while for it to get dark while Stiles did some research on his computer. Mitch tried to tell him he had already tried to find something, but he wouldn’t listen. While he was working, Mitch fell asleep on the bed.

———

_Whirs and clicks of metal against stone sent chills down his spine as he hid behind the vines that clung to the wall. The pungent smell of something vile mixed with blood and his own sweat lingered in his nostrils as he held his breath. He feared his heart was beating so loudly that anyone, or anything, could hear it. The noises faded and he took the chance to dash out of the hiding place. Without any hesitation or hindrance, he flew through the corridors, turn after turn with ease. He could run for hours, he had done it everyday now, but that was after a full night's rest and a full stomach. He hadn’t made it back in time before the gates closed and he was stuck in the maze overnight, and no one had ever survived a night in the maze. He kept running despite the throbbing in his legs and chest, pushing himself because he knew his survival depended on it. _

_After he put a good 10 miles between him and the creature, he stopped to catch his breath and take a sip of the water from his pack. That was a mistake and he knew the second he made it. The curdling sound of nails on a chalkboard returned and echoed through the passageway. They were getting louder and louder means closer. He ran as fast as he could in the opposite direction, but it was faster than he was. The creature lunged for him, but he threw himself to the right and rolled onto the ground. It squealed in anger and curled in its legs as it rolled towards him. “Get up!” His dark haired friend grabbed his arms and pulled him up with his strong muscles. They dashed towards an open entrance that was the length of 20 feet. About a foot in, the walls started creaking and that meant they were shifting, changing. He stopped in his tracks as an idea occurred to him, but his friend pushed forward. _

_When the black haired boy made it to the other side, he turned to see his friend no longer with him. “What are you doing?” He shouted, his voice laced with terror and urgency. The brown haired boy stared at his friend and looked back towards the creature hurdling at him. He readied his feet to push off at the right moment. A few more seconds. Now! The passageway was closing fast and if he didn’t move faster he would be caught in his own trap. The monster was nipping at his heels and he screamed as he pushed his body to its limits. “RUN! THOMAS RUN!” Thomas hurled himself forward the last couple of feet and crashed into his friend as they fell to the ground. Squeals and discomforting sounds of something being squished echoed through the maze as the walls collapsed in on the monstrosity. Not only was Thomas the first person to ever survive a night in the maze, he was the first person to ever kill a griever._

———

“Mitch! Wake up.” Stiles threw a pillow at his face and he shot up quickly, sleep still in his eyes. Stiles grabbed the flashlight, keys, and lock-pick off his desk and started out the door. Mitch trailed closely behind.

They pulled up to the clinic, but it was almost 11pm, so it was closed for the night. The building was dark and abandoned. Stiles cleared his throat and looked to Mitch, “Scott can never know about this.” Mitch nodded and they both got out of the car. They parked in the back of the building and Stiles unlocked the back entrance with his copy of the key. They went inside and closed the door behind them. Stiles clicked on the flashlight and they made their way to Deaton’s office. He tried to open the door, but as he suspected it was locked. He placed the flashlight in his mouth as he squatted to eye level with the doorknob so that the light shined on his hands. He pulled out the lock-pick and started to jiggle the instruments in the keyhole.

Mitch kept an eye out while Stiles worked on opening the door, but after five minutes he looked over and saw that he had made no progress. “What’s taking so long?” Stiles grunted and mumbled something Mitch couldn’t understand because of the object in his mouth. “What?” Mitch stated curtly.

Stiles sighed and held the instruments with one hand as he used the other to remove the flashlight, he licked his lips that tasted of metal. “I said, give me a minute. It’s been a while since I’ve had to pick a lock.” Mitch pushes Stiles to the side harshly, causing him to fall on his ass and shout. “Dude! Seriously?” He sat up, annoyed and mumbling slurs under his breath.

It was hard to see without the flashlight, but Mitch put the instruments in the lock and fiddled them around. It took him all of three seconds before there was a click and the door swung open. Mitch have Stiles a shit-eating grin and a raised eyebrow. He just laid on his back, propped up by his elbows with his mouth open and his lips fluttering to find words. Mitch winked at the awestruck boy then stood up and offered him a hand. He pulled Stiles to his feet and he even managed to do that spastically.

They entered the room and saw the walls lined with books. They looked at each other with wide eyes, no idea what it was they were trying to find. “You start over there and I’ll start here.” Stiles pointed to the wall opposite of him and Mitch nodded and went in that direction. They searched for an hour, but it was hard to find something when you didn’t know what that something was. Stiles closed his eyes and sighed as defeat filled him, but he felt a tingle in his fingers almost like electricity was running through them. His eyes swung open and his eyes landed on a book without a title on the spine. He pulled it out and it was old, worn and covered in dust. The cover was blank as well. He opened the book and it revealed old and yellowed pages as his eyes scanned the faded text. He called over to Mitch and he read the book out loud.

“The great druid was mighty and known to many for his gifts and abilities, but he seeked more, becoming greedy and consumed by power. He scoured the lands for magic that could give him the abilities he needed to become what he saw as the greatest of strengths; immortality. He found this power in the elements of nature. Calas, which represents solidarity and substance, the physical manifestation of something within the world. It can be related to earth and the feeling of the soil as it runs through your fingers. Gwyar which is defined as movement and change, often connected to water and the sea. How energy flows and is in a constant flux of life, death, and uncertainty in all living things. The third element, Nwyfre, is the life force and consciousness that each life and living thing contains. It is associated with the sky and the heavens, and this element is often referred to as the spark of life.”

Stiles stopped reading for a minute and took a breath. This wasn’t the first time he had heard the term ‘spark’. When he and Scott were trying to save Jackson while he was the kanima, Deaton had told them about mountain ash and that in order to use it he had to be the spark. When he went to create the supernatural barrier around the building to trap Jackson inside, he only had a handful of ash and still had 50 feet left to complete the circle. He never really thought about it until this moment, but he had followed Deaton’s instructions to believe and see what he needed the ash to do; to will it into being. What he did was impossible and thinking about it now sent chills down his spine. What did that mean? Why would Deaton call him a spark, especially if he knew this information back then?

Mitch cleared his throat as he grew impatient of waiting for Stiles to continue, so he grabbed the book in his hands and read on. “These three create balance in nature and symbolize the journey of birth, life, and death. The druid perverted this idea and manipulated them to achieve his goals. When he managed to gain what set him apart from the gods, he named himself Morfran, his success did not last long though. The gods punished him by throwing him into an endless pit of darkness to suffer alone for eternity for defying their divinity. Nature also took notice to such a shift in the harmony of life and death. She saw that there needed to be symmetry. For every lifetime the druid lived, another would also. For where there is life, there must also be death. There was a fear that should he ever escape the wrath of the gods, he would bring destruction to the world in vengeance. The gods consulted with nature and decided that, should this come to pass, three of his likeness would arise. They would bare the elements and their power, using them to destroy that which they were used to create.”

Stiles shook his head and looked at Mitch like he didn’t believe what he was hearing. He ran over to his side and took the book from him, rereading over it’s texts to make sure he heard everything right. His fingers traced the pages as his head swayed back and forth, taking in the words. He looked up and Mitch shrugged, still new to all of this. Stiles scratched his head. “So, correct me if I’m wrong, but basically we’re supposed to defeat this guy or whatever? And we’re the elements or something?”

Mitch shrugged again, “I guess.” Stiles tapped just fingers on his chin as he paced in the small office space. Mitch rubbed the back of his neck as he broke Stiles’ train of thought. “It said three, right?”

“Yeah? And?” Stiles kept pacing.

“There’s only two of us.” Mitch curled his lips in as Stiles halted his movements and shifted his gaze towards him with wide eyes. “I think I’ve seen the third one, in dreams.” Mitch confessed as Stiles hands dropped to his sides and he started to nod his head.

“I think I have too.” He sat down in the chair in front of the desk. “I wake up and it’s this open field. I’m surrounded by a bunch of boys that range from all ages and I walk past them to a wall that looks like it’s 100 feet tall. It’s covered in ivy and cold as ice, but it vibrated underneath my touch.” Mitch leaned against the table and crossed his arms as he listened, remembering the exact same thing in his own memories. 

“I saw that too. He mentioned something about a maze, but I didn’t quite understand. Did you see the next part? There’s this thing straight out of a sci-fi movie chasing him and he’s just running and running but he somehow kills it.” Mitch looked concerned as he spoke, trying to make sense of it all. Stiles nodded, agreeing that he also saw this. “I think his name is Thomas.”

Stiles rubbed his mouth and looked to Mitch. “There was another one too.” Mitch tilted his head in confusion. He had only had the one dream. “I wake up and everything is foggy and there are machines around me and attached to me. I’m in a hospital bed and the boys from the first dream are in other beds too. I hear a woman’s voice and she says that I’m waking up and need more benzodiazepine, which is a very strong sedative. I hear something about testing a response to some sort of artificial reality and mentions of the maze and it’s effect on my brain. Then everything goes black again.”

Stiles jumped up like something triggered his body. “We need to go.” Mitch looked confused, but Stiles ran out the door before he could ask any questions. He put the book back quickly and returned the chair to its original place, like they had never been there. He went outside and Stiles was already waiting in the jeep. They rushed to the house and he ran inside. Mitch caught up but Stiles was already typing away on his computer like a mad man. Mitch sat on the bed and simply waited, knowing it was no use to try and communicate with him in this state. 

“Oh my God…” Stiles whispered under his breath as he caught Mitch’s attention again. He looked at him and moved his hands for him to go on. “During both of those dreams, three words kept repeating over and over again in my head. I thought they sounded familiar so I looked them up. It took me a while but I thought I knew it from somewhere. A while back there was a case that my dad was assigned to—”

“Your dad?” Mitch raises a brow.

“Yeah. I didn’t tell you? He’s the sheriff.” Mitch rolled his eyes but motioned for him to continue. “Anyways, my dad was assigned as a security detail for a witness against this company to prove they were conducting illegal experiments and things like that.”

“And?”

“And!? And the witness died! They did an autopsy and it came back inconclusive!” Stiles was standing now and flailing his arms as he raised his voice.

“What does this have to do with Thomas in our dreams?” Mitch kept his tone neutral and calm.

“What does it have to— It has everything to do with it! Isn’t it obvious?” It was blatantly unobvious to to Mitch. He was clearly missing a piece of the picture that Stiles was aware of. Stiles scrambled to his desk and grabbed his computer, and placed it on his lap as he sat next to Mitch on the bed. He showed him a picture of the witness being escorted by the police, behind him was a building with a logo and three words. 

_Wicked is Good._


	4. Mirror Image

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry this took so long. thanks for being patient with me. hopefully some of you are still interested in it, lol

([song i listened to a lot while writing this](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fm.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DJa9IUKElT5w&t=NzdkYTYwNGZlZDg5M2ZlNWIzMWYwZTAxODQxYTlhNGIyZTZhODdlMyxFQzRBSkFkMg%3D%3D&b=t%3AufInpPuidUMU6l6O-HCMyA&p=https%3A%2F%2Fdylinski.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F189582813310%2Fdoppelg%25C3%25A4nger-series&m=1))

The whole pack stood around the island in Scott’s kitchen as they processed Stiles’ plan to infiltrate and rescue the boy they weren’t even sure existed. They all looked at him like he was some crazed fanatic that was milking a conspiracy theory. Mitch didn’t have much to say either, aside from the snorts and giggles here and there, at how idiotic this all was. These were teenagers, still in high school, and they were planning a rescue mission with no intel or training. He had run hundreds of operations in his few years working as a covert assassin for the CIA, but this shit was ridiculous.

“Lydia, you’ll go in through the main doors and distract the guard. There’s usually only one at the front desk during the night shift and security seems to be pretty minimal.” Stiles turned to face Isaac and Allison. “You two are going to be waiting in the wings in case everything goes to shit. Scott and I will sneak in through the back. I got this keycard by making a copy of a security guards with an RFID scanner, so that should let us in.” Mitch looked shocked and was slightly impressed with Stiles for making a copy of the card. Stiles pulled out blueprints of the facility, leaving Mitch surprised yet again. There were notes and planned paths all over in the boys handwriting. 

“Scott and I will enter here and make our way through this corridor. Allison can watch the building from this roof over here which gives her the best view of the back entrance in case Scott and I need air support. Isaac, you’ll keep a low profile in the car at the edge of the parking lot here, in case Lydia needs back up or something goes wrong. As far as I can tell, inside the building, there are blueprints and layouts for everything online except for the sub level basement. There’s mention of its existence, but no actual paperwork. That’s where Thomas will be, so that’s where Scotty and I are going. Everybody got it?”

Again, nothing but shock. No one aside from Mitch understood why they were doing this or where this was coming from. “Yes Lydia?” Stiles motioned toward her as she put down her hand.

“Question, why are we doing this again?” She pouted her lips and squinted her eyes.

Stiles huffed and scrunched up his face with frustration as he squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Because there’s another ‘us’ in there, okay? I know it sounds crazy and it’s hard to explain but I just know it in my gut, okay?” He was greeted by silence. He turned to Mitch and motioned towards the group. “A little help would be, you know, helpful.”

“Oh. Uhm, yeah. I feel it too.” He looked confused and uncertain of his words, but nonetheless he supported the spastic boys claims. Stiles nodded in agreement and ran his hand through his hair as he sighed.

“Uhm, is anyone else going to mention it or should I?” Everyone turned to face Isaac, but Stiles looked particularly annoyed while the rest donned curiosity. He looked to Mitch and smiled diabolically. “It’s like Stiles and Derek had a baby.” 

Allison broke into laughter with him while Scott tried to hold back a smile. Lydia looked stunned while Mitch was clueless. Stiles transitioned from irritation to unhinged in a matter of seconds. He rigidly shook his head and arms, flailing. He shot daggers at the blonde that could have killed.

After everyone calmed down, Stiles asked them if they had any questions again. They all seemed pretty content with the plan, minus Mitch. “Why am I not in the plan?”

Stiles was past the point of patience with everyone and took a deep breath so that he didn’t blow. “Because I don’t trust you yet. It’s been four days.” Mitch squinted his eyes in hostility and his nostrils flared.

“I think we should include him.” Scott chimed in. “He can be backup for Lydia.” Mitch changed his expression and a smile covered his face while Lydia blushed from his gaze.

“No! Very much no!” Stiles argued. “Besides, Isaac is her backup.”

“I wouldn’t mind the company if he was my backup instead.” Allison offered sheepishly.

Stiles had reached his limit with everyone and didn’t feel like using the little energy he had left arguing with all of them. “Backup to the backup? Really?” He slapped his palm to his face as he massaged his temple. His eyes were closed as he spoke, “There is a plan! You don’t mess with the plan! I have a plan.”

“Plans change.” Scott shrugged and looked to the others who nodded in agreement. Stiles was about to jump across the counter and wring his best friend, so he threw his hands up with an exasperated sigh. He turned and walked out the door while talking to himself. Something about how they were all idiots and none of them would be alive right now without him. They should listen to him and never doubt him ever. Things along those lines.

Scott sighed and followed Stiles outside to find him sitting on the bench on the porch. He sat down and decided to let his friend initiate the conversation when he was ready.

The distraught boy was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and hands covering his mouth. He let his hands fall as a subtle whine escaped his lips. “Scotty, I had a plan. This isn’t like the things we’ve done before. It needs to work. This is…this is someone’s life. Someone who might have answers.”

Scott placed his hand on the right shoulder of his friend and squeezed with reassurance. “Stiles, it’s okay. The plan hasn’t changed. It still works. I just think Mitch should be a part of it.” Stiles turned to look at Scott with frustrated eyes. “He has just as many questions as you do, if not more, and he could really help us. He’s just as invested in this as any of us, and as much as you.”

Stiles sighed and leaned back into his seat, giving Scott a crooked smirk. “Yeah…I guess you’re right. I just…we don’t know anything about him, you know? I don’t like it when I don’t know.” Scott chuckled and agreed with him.

“He’ll tell us when he’s ready. He’s given us no reason not to trust him yet.” Scott offered his words for consideration.

Stiles looked at his friend again, “He hasn’t given us a reason to trust him either.” That was Stiles, always the optimist.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mitch leaned over the table, examining Stiles’ decently thought out plan, while everyone else dispersed from the gathering. Scott had followed his friend outside and Allison left with Isaac, leaving Lydia to linger in the kitchen with him. She leaned her back against the counter next to him and watched him, but he noticed from the corner of his eye.

He turned his head to face her with and unamused look. “Like what you see?” 

Lydia rolled her eyes and pursed her lips at his blatant sarcasm. “No. I’m just trying to figure you out.”

Mitch smiled and huffed a small laugh through his nose as he stood up straight. “Well, I could say the same thing about you.”

Lydia matched his posture and turned to face him, inches between them. She stood up on the balls of her feet, “Are you flirting with me?” She raised her eyebrows and fell back down onto her heels.

Mitch narrowed his eyes, leaning down closer to her and whispered, “You’re the one who flirted first.”

Lydia waggled her eyebrows and spun on her heel. She walked a few paces and turned to face him again. “I’m glad you’re helping us with the plan.”

Mitch changed his demeanor and became more guarded again, Lydia noticed. “Someone has to make sure you guys don’t get yourselves killed.” He crossed his arms over his chest, avoiding eye contact.

“Trust me, this isn’t the first time we’ve done something like this.” Lydia looked off somewhere and sighed. Mitch tilted his head and donned curiosity. Lydia shook her head and looked sad. “Stiles planned something really similar to this once actually.” She looked back to Mitch with weary eyes and turned in her lips. “He did it to save me.”

Mitch could tell it was a sore topic, and although he wanted to know the story behind her sadness, he let it drop and simply nodded. Stiles and Scott walked back into the room and caught the attention of Mitch and Lydia.

Stiles commanded the room, “We’ll all meet back here in three hours and then go straight to the facility, sound good?” Everyone agreed in unison and went their separate ways.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you sure the plan is gonna work, Stiles?” Scott looked out at the road as the baby blue jeep glided forward.

“The plan will work. It’s a good plan.” Stiles seemed agitated. They were almost to the Wicked facility, leading the parade of cars. Lydia and Mitch followed and Isaac and Allison were close behind.

Lydia pulled the blueberry blue sedan into the empty parking lot in front of the building. She turned off the engine and the duo waited for the go ahead from Stiles and Scott. Lydia looked worried and was nibbling on her bottom lip.

Mitch groaned and rubbed his eyes as he slouched in his seat. Lydia shifted to confusion by his actions. “What is it?” Her question was sharp tongued.

He moved his hand and looked at Lydia. “Huh? Oh. Nothing.” He looked like he wanted to be anywhere but where he was, which was accurate.

“What is your problem?” Her question was genuine, but laced with attitude. Lydia crossed her arms and pouted.

Mitch sat up. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. What. Is. Your. Problem.”

Shock masked his face. Was she really talking to him like this? He couldn’t decide whether he was more defensive or turned on.

“You’re the one who fought to be here. So why are you acting like we’re forcing you to stay?”

Mitch rolled his eyes, “I told you, to make sure none of you get yourselves killed.”

“We’ve been just fine without you so far, so what is your purpose?”

“My purp-” Mitch was just angry now. “Woman! I don’t know why I’m here! I didn’t know even before any of this shit!”

Lydia was shooting daggers with her eyes. “Well you need to figure your shit out before Scott and Stiles are going to accept you.”

“Accept me? What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means you need to get with the program. This little attitude,” Lydia wiggled her finger at Mitch, “has got to go.”

Mitch raised his voice and threw his arms up, “What attitude!?” He exclaimed, with an attitude.

Lydia rolled her eyes again at the man. “Look, you seem…like a decent guy, but Scott and Stiles have a way of doing things. We’re more than just a bunch of teenagers, we’re a family…a pack. In this pack, we work together and fight together. We save people. We fight for those who cannot fight for themselves. You look like someone who doesn’t fight for anyone but himself.”

Mitch averted his eyes and became slightly insulted by her words. They hit him deep because they were mostly true. He told himself he became what he was for a greater purpose, but if he was being completely honest, he did this for himself.

“I think there’s a part of you that was broken, and so you protect it. You keep it so tightly locked away that you forget it’s there sometimes. If you want to be with us, then be with us.” Lydia could see the sadness in his eyes despite him looking through the windshield and not at her.

Mitch was staring blankly into the darkness outside of the car. He gulped and closed his eyes, letting out a deep sigh. “I can’t. I…I’ve lost too many people.” He turned to Lydia. “I can’t lose anymore.”

She frowned sympathetically and parted her lips to speak just as her phone rang. She pulled it out and saw that it was Stiles.

“Hello?”

“Hey. Are you guys good? Isaac and Allison are already in place.”

Lydia sighed, “Yup. Good to go.”

“Alright, let’s do this.” Lydia hung up and gave Mitch a forced smile. He nodded and they both got out of the car.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Alright, they said they’re good. Let’s go.” Stiles waved towards the building and the two boys jogged to the entrance. They came to the door and tried to be stealthy; they were anything but.

Stiles slid the keycard through the reader and the light turned from red to green as a buzz was emitted. Stiles made a face like he was surprised it actually worked and Scott wasn’t entirely sure how to take that. They slipped inside and found a large corridor. Everything was very clean and very white. They looked at each other surprised and shrugged, then started to walk. Stiles pulled out his phone and turned it sideways, looking at the map on his screen.

“We need to go this way.” Stiles spoke with a hushed voice and motioned for them to make a right. They made their way through the labyrinth until they found an elevator. Stiles swiped the card again and the large doors opened with a ding. They stepped onto the lift and and Stiles looked at all the buttons.

“It’s not here.” Stiles voice sounded panicked as he clenched his fists and continued to search for the buttons that were obviously not there.

“What’s not there?” Scott seemed confused.

“The button, Scott! The button!” Stiles looked at his friend with annoyance.

“Then where is it?”

Stiles stood up straight and placed his hand on his forehead, sighing. “The lowest this goes is sub level A1. We need sub level A2, but it’s not there. See?” Stiles gestured towards the illuminated panel and Scott leaned in to look.

Scott tilted his head and stepped between Stiles and the display of buttons. Stiles watched eagerly as Scott pushed out a single claw from his pointer finger. He dug it into the metal and a small door opened that Stiles had seemed to miss. There was a slot for a key and a row of buttons that read A2 to A5. Scott stood up and shrugged, letting Stiles examine the newfound development.

His fingers traced over the keyhole and he pulled out his lock pick. He had been practicing with Mitch since they broke into Deaton’s office, so he slipped the instruments into their places and was able to easily deceive the latch. Scott made a noise that sounded like he was impressed. Stiles looked at him with a large smile and wiggled his brows, then pressed the button.

The elevator jumped and then started to descend. After a minute, the movement stopped and the doors opened to a dark hallway that was similar to the ones they had seen before. Everything was dark, but a light flickered on shortly after they stepped off the lift. There were no doors or windows, just an endless path of white walls. Every couple feet, a new light would flick on and the one behind them would shut off. It occurred to Stiles that they were most likely motion censored.

They both walked hastily, but with caution. Eventually, they made their way far enough and there was a door to their right. Their options were to see what was behind it or continue onward. There were no locks, keypads, or card readers. Just a simple white door with a round knob. Stiles shrugged and opened the barrier. It was pitch black, so he fumbled his fingers across the wall next to him until he found a light switch. He flipped it on and his eyes grew wide. Both boys emitted a gasp when their gaze met what laid before them.

~~~~~~~~~~

Mitch walked up with Lydia until they were almost to the doors. He broke off and found a spot to hide in the shadows while she worked her magic. She opened the door and pranced in, her hips swaying and immediately catching the attention of the male security guard. She walked over to the desk he was sitting at and leaned over the top. She had the biggest smile. If there was one thing Lydia Martin was good at, it was seducing people.

“Hello there handsome.” Her voice was sultry and full of warmth. The man seemed to be choking on his words and pulled at the collar around his throat.

“Uhm. I, uh. You’re not supposed to be here ma’am.” He gulped and Lydia gave him a pout.

“What? I’m not allowed to be here and talk to such a riveting man?” She reached out and lightly brushed the back of her hand across his face. The man’s pupils blew wide and he pushed his chair back slightly, unsure how to handle this. Give him a guy with a gun or someone trying to rob the place, he was trained for that. But this, nothing prepared him for this.

Mitch couldn’t help but laugh and shake his head as he watched the disaster of a man. He would have taken the easier route and knocked the guy out, but this works too. It was also much more entertaining. He liked seeing this side of Lydia, demanding and in control. Everytime he learned something new about her, he was more interested and amazed. She was an enigma of a woman.

“Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” Lydia could tell she was losing the guard, so she switched up tactics.

“What happens if I don’t leave?” She pressed the tip of her tongue to the top of her teeth.

The guard seemed to be gaining his composure. He was standing now and trying to take control over the situation. “I would have to call the authorities.”

“Aw. I was hoping you’d have some handcuffs back there.” Lydia winked and caught the man off guard. He could tell that there was something more going on here, and he was starting to get more annoyed than anything. Lydia pursed her lips and shifted her eyes for a split second in the general direction of where she knew Mitch was watching.

He could see she was getting nervous, but there was no need for him to intervene yet. He was a last resort, and he knew it would involve him getting violent which was something that these teens were surprisingly against. Besides, it went against his training. Never jump the gun when you’re backup. The enemy doesn’t know you’re there, so don’t give them the advantage. Allow them to show their cards before you fold.

Lydia was pleading in her mind for Mitch to rescue her from this disaster. She didn’t know what she was doing. She was used to flirting with high school boys, but not a man who was obviously losing interest, and quickly. She heard some footsteps and turned around to see two other guards appear. The man behind her cleared his throat, thankful for the relief. Lydia whispered under her breath, “Shit.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Do you think they’re all okay? I hope they’re all okay.” Allison had her bow trained on the door where she saw Scott and Stiles enter the building, but couldn’t help but worry. “It’s been a while since we’ve heard anything.”

Isaac walked over and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. “They’re fine. I haven’t heard any alarms or shouting. Give them time to find what they’re looking for.” He kissed her cheek and started pacing again. He did that when he was anxious. He didn’t like waiting around and not doing anything.

Allison pulled in her lips as her nostrils flared. She noticed out of the corner of her eye that Mitch emerged from the shadows and was stealthily making his way towards the main entrance. “Isaac! I think somethings wrong!!”

He ran over and glinted to get a better look. Mitch was running inside the building with haste. “Shit.” Issac started running towards the door that led down from the roof.

“Isaac! Where are you going?” There was panic in Allison’s voice. She turned quickly, watching him rush to the exit.

He stopped and looked back to her. “Stay here in case Stiles and Scott need you, okay? I’m sure everything is fine. I just need to make sure. I’ll be back, I promise.” Allison gulped and nodded as she reluctantly watched him leave. She took a deep breath and reset her bow towards the back entrance again. She tried to keep her composure, but she had a feeling in her gut that something bad was going to happen, and these feelings of hers were never wrong.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The light illuminated the room and Stiles blinked rapidly as he tried to adjust and process what was in front of him. He ran over to the hospital bed with Thomas in it. His eyes followed the cords and wires that were attached to the boy and led to machines and computers. “What the..?” He looked like he was in a coma. Stiles peered around for something, anything, to tell him what was going on. There was a clipboard attached to the foot of the bed. He picked it up and scanned through its pages.

Scott approached Stiles and glanced over his shoulder. “What is it?”

Stiles’ eyes flitted back and forth as they frantically read the pages. His mouth was hanging open, astonished at what they said. “He’s…he’s in an induced coma. They’re running tests on his brain, see?” He lifted the clipboard so that Scott could look, pointing to notes written by a doctor. “It says something about…artificial reality?” 

He put the clipboard down and ran over to one of the computers. He found a digital file that looked important and opened it. Monitors that lined the walls immediately flickered on, each showing something different. One was a summary of Thomas’ vitals, the rhythm of his heart fluttering in jagged peaks and slopes. The next looked like a human brain scan and it was recording brain activity in different parts of the brain that were being used and stimulated. The monitor after that showed like something out of a movie.

The screen view was first person, and was exactly like Stiles’ dream. Scott and Stiles watched, engrossed in what was happening on the monitor. Stiles looked to Thomas and then back at the screen. He could see a view of a bunch of boys, the same ones he saw when he was dreaming. They all looked ratty and disheveled, like they hadn’t bathed in weeks. Their clothes were torn and dirty, they were covered in cuts, scrapes and looked exhausted. 

“Stiles…?” Scott sounded concerned. The brunette looked at the alpha in shock. Scott gently jerked his head towards another door in the room that was just as plain as the one that led to this room. 

Stiles slowly approached it and wrapped his fingers around the knob. He turned the handle sluggishly and pushed the door forward with hesitation. Stiles found the lightswitch on the wall and the room was filled with light. His eyes grew wide and he forgot how to breathe. His jaw was clenched as he closed his fists, a teary rage burning in his eyes. The room was large and felt like it went on for miles, similar to a long corridor. On either side of the room, lining the walls, were rows of beds that were filled with other boys. All of them were attached to machines and cords just like Thomas.

Stiles didn’t recognize most of them, but as he was scanning the room he noticed a chubby curly headed boy to his right. His eyes widened as he gulped and walked over to him. He tilted his head as he examined the kid lying in front of him. He didn’t have any connection, personally, to the boy but could still feel one. He remembered how he felt in the dream when they, well him and Thomas, were standing at the wall. He could tell Thomas felt strongly for the moppy-headed kid, but also a sadness. 

He raised his eyes and noticed the second person he saw in his dreams. This was the one stuck in the maze with him, who had screamed Thomas’ name. Without intention, Stiles reached out to touch his face, but stopped short and pulled his hand back to his side. He picked up his head and wiped the stray tear with his sleeve and turned to Scott who was still standing in the doorway.

“Stiles, what are they doing to them?” Scott’s eyes were wide and scanning the room with horror.

Stiles sniffed and took a deep breath, composing himself before he spoke. He opened his mouth to speak and the first word that came out was coarse and burned his esophagus. He cleared his throat and spoke again, more clearly. “I think…they’re experimenting on them.” He walked over to a computer and Scott followed him. Stiles pulled up some files and showed him exactly what they were doing. “They manufactured some sort of apocalyptic alternate reality and are running the simulation in their minds. What we saw on the screens in the other room, to them that’s happening to them. They’re living in this world that isn’t real, while in reality…” Stiles turned and motioned to the row of beds.

Scott opened his mouth, but no words came out. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Was any of this even possible? Could they really do something like this? To a bunch of kids? “Stiles, we weren’t prepared for this. We can’t just leave them all here.”

Stiles closed his eyes and nodded, taking in a deep breath. “I know.” He looked to Scott and chewed on his bottom lip. “We need to call my dad.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The men were approaching Lydia quickly and one of them pulled out a baton with a look like they weren’t playing any games. She stood there, petrified. It took her back to Eichen House, the place where the pack had rescued her not that long ago. Her fear was overwhelming and almost embarrassing. Her mind screaming at her to move or do something, but her body just stood there, like a catatonic deer caught in the headlights.

She was ripped from her stupor when Mitch appeared from out of the shadows and punched the guard that was b-lined for her. She let out a silent scream, more shocked than scared. She watched as Mitch took on both of the men effortlessly. He moved like he was trained in combat, almost like a soldier. 

The guard from the desk came up behind Lydia and grabbed her in a chokehold. She reached up and grabbed at the arm around her neck. The training Jordan had given her kicked in and she elbowed him in the ribs. He let go to grab his side and she swung around to throw a punch, but he caught her wrist. She went to throw her other fist that was blocked as well. He thought he had the upper hand, but a smile graced her face. Lydia took in a deep breath and screamed.

Mitch knocked out the second guy just in time to turn and see Lydia knock the third guard on his ass and he had reach up and cover his ears. He let his hands fall, but his ears were still ringing from the power the shriek. He ran over to Lydia and clutched her shoulders, holding her out at a distance to examine her. His eyes washed over her form, searching for any possible injuries. “Are you okay?”

Lydia pushed him off her shoulders and pursed her lips, “I’m not completely helpless, you know.”

Mitch took a deep breath and pulled in his lips as he looked over to the guard from the front desk, motionless on the floor. “Oh, I’m well aware.” He looked back to her, not with fear, but curiosity. “How did you do that?”

Lydia shrugged nonchalantly, “Perks of being a banshee, I guess.”

Mitch smiled, “Ahh, make sense.” He shook his head and let out a soft laugh. “Come on, we should go around back to see if Stiles and Scott are back yet. These guys should be out for a while.” He grabbed Lydia’s hand and was surprised when she intertwined her fingers with his. He looked down at their digits interlocked and back up giving her a smile. He turned towards the door and they ran out together, headed to the back entrance of the building.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Allison scanned the ground below her, looking down the arrow in her bow. It was quiet, too quiet. It had been at least five minutes since Isaac left, and that uneasy feeling she had wasn’t going away. She shifted her aim towards the front of the building in hopes of finding him, Lydia, or Mitch but found no one. The silence of the night sent chills down her spine causing her body to physically shake. She lowered her bow and tilted her head as she tried to find something she knew she couldn’t see. The air changed and she could feel the hairs on her arms standing tall, like static was lingering in the space around her.

There was the slightest noise that would go unnoticed by most, but Allison’s trained ears heard it as loud as her own thoughts. She swung around, her bow pointed directly at the intruders head, ready to release. She dropped the bow to her side and gave the familiar face a confused look. “Stiles, what are you doing here? I thought you were inside with Scott.” She took long strides towards her friend who raised an eyebrow at her. “Is something wrong? Did something happen?” Her voice was panicked as her eyes roamed his face for a sign of an answer.

His face was blank, the smallest hint of enjoyment. He looked down to his feet, lingering his eyes there. The corner of his mouth inched up and Allison took a step back. Alerted to her movement, his eyes flew up, hooded by their lids, and a small chuckle sounded behind closed lips at her fear.

“You’re not Stiles.” Allison slowly shook her head as she started taking slow strides backwards.

The man unknown to her cocked his head, still wearing the menacing smile. He placed his arms behind his back and took a few steps forward to match Allison’s motions. She kept moving backwards until her back hit the edge and she had nowhere else to go. She darted her eyes left and right, looking for a means of escape, but now he’s inches from her. He leaned forward, inhaling deeply as his cheek brushed against hers. 

“Oh, you’re terrified, aren’t you?” He sounded similar to her friend, but deeper and rough. There was a power behind his voice that made her want to disappear. She gulped and stood up tall, hiding her fear from him. It was pointless, but Allison was never one to appear weak.

She glared and raised her chin high as she quietly reached to the back of her waistband. “Who are you?” Her words were sharp and came through gritted teeth.

The man looked offended, but in a playful way. A laugh rumbled through his chest before he shook his head with amusement. “Has it been so long that stories of my power were forgotten?” He leaned back, getting a better view of the fair girl. He looked to his right and sighed. “Is this really the part of the story where the bad guy reveals his evil plan?” He looked at her sarcastically with a thin smile.

Allison gripped the handle of the dagger behind her waist. If there was one thing her father ever taught her, it was to never carry less than three weapons at all times. The stranger was too far from her to make a move now, she needed him to be close again. “I guess you weren’t very good at being a bad guy if no one remembers you.” She laughed, her words obviously said in a mocking manner.

He snapped his head to face her, his expression altering from that of leisure to rage in the blink of an eye. He scrunched up his features as his nostrils flared. His eyes were deep and filled with a fury that was unmatched. He closed the distance between them with one large step and placed his right hand tightly around Allison’s throat. He pushed her backwards, her upper body now leaning over the side of the building. His face inches away, allowing her to feel his hot huffs of breath through his nose. “How dare you speak to me in such a manner?” His fingers were like fire and burned against her flesh as he squeezed tighter.

This was it, her chance. She pulled the blade from behind her and swung it around, aiming for the small space between his ribs. Without flinching or removing his eyes from their locked gaze, his left arm flew out and gripped her wrist. The anger drained from him and a smirk replaced it. He applied pressure to her wrist, turning it until she lost her hold and the knife clatter to the ground.

~~~~~~~~~~~  
  


“I called the station and gave them an anonymous tip. They’re on their way.” Stiles pushed his phone back into his pocket as he walked over to Scott. They looked at the machines next to Thomas’ bed and were trying to think of a way to wake him up.

“Stiles, we’ve been here too long. We need to wake him up right now.” Scott sounded panicked.

“I know! I know.” He scratched his head and looked at everything. He would have liked more time to figure out a good way to do this, but it wasn’t a luxury they had. Stiles perked up like he had an idea, but it was such a terrible one. “Scott, just pull everything out. Unplug him from everything!”

Both boys got to work and tugged on every cord and line until there were none left. They hovered over the unconscious body, but nothing changed. “What now?” Scott looked up to Stiles who was on the other side of the bed. He was rubbing the back of his neck and groaned, but the noise wasn’t coming from him. Stiles looked at Scott with shock that was returned. They heard the sound again and looked down to Thomas who was wiggling in the bed. Stiles shouted with accomplishment and reached out to give his friend a high five. 

“What..?” Thomas’ voice was coarse and dry. He hadn’t spoken for a long time and it burned as the word came out. He tried to sit up but was too weak. They had been giving him nutrients through a tube while he was under, but his muscles were beginning to contract from the lack of movement. Everything in him ached and screamed with each microscopic movement. 

“Hey, hey. You’re okay. Thomas, right?” Stiles reached down and helped him sit up. Thomas made a muffled noise of affirmation, but his eyes were still closed and groggy. The light was painful, just like everything else apparently. “Look, we don’t have time to explain everything right now, but you can trust us, okay?”

Thomas blinked his eyes rapidly as everything came into focus. He looked around with confusion as his brain was catching up to his body. He landed on the boy in front of him who was…his face! They had the same face! What was this? He scooted back in the bed, eyes full of terror. It occurred to him that the room looked exactly like a Wicked facility. He saw Scott on the other side of him and darted his eyes around and saw the clipboard at the end of the bed. He sat there for a moment, waiting for his chance, and when he found it he took it. He jumped towards the end of the bed and grabbed the clipboard as he rolled off the edge. Scott went to get him, assuming he fell off, but when he grabbed the boy the object was slammed into his face and a loud crunch echoed through the room.

“What the fuck? He broke my nose!” Scott shouted as he cupped his face and blood ran from his nostrils.

“Hey! Hey! We’re not going to hurt you Thomas!” Stiles was squaring up with the boy and had his arms raised, showing he meant no harm.

Thomas clutched the raised clipboard, his eyes teary and scared. No matter how frightened he looked, there was still a fire in him that seared through to his core. You didn’t want to piss this kid off. “Who are you?” His words were frayed and broken, untrusting.

“Look, my name is Stiles and the guy whose nose you just broke, that’s my best friend, Scott.” He pointed to him and Thomas followed, eyes still questioning. Scott just waved and smiled while still holding his bloody nose.

Thomas quickly looked back to Stiles. “What am I doing here? How did I get here?”

Stiles lowered his arms. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Thomas tilted his head as he thought and unknowingly lowered his weapon. “I…I was in the Scorch with my friends and… Oh God! My friends! Where are they? I need to find Minho. I need to find Newt!” He ran to the door that led out to the hallway, but Scott grabbed him before he made it. The anger was gone and Thomas tried to claw his way free as tears started to fall down his cheeks, desperate to find his companions.

“Thomas!” Stiles ran over to him and grabbed his shoulder. “They’re fine! I promise. We need to leave though. I can explain everything to you, okay? But we need to go because the guards are going to be coming soon.”

“My friends, I can’t leave them here.” Tears stained Thomas’ cheeks as his words whimpered off his lips.

Stiles tugged his lips inward and looked to Scott, whose nose was now healed. Scott shrugged and let the boy go. Thomas was just standing there now, his head and shoulders hanging low. 

“Come with me.” Stiles sighed and placed his hand on his forehead as he turned around on his heel and headed towards the door in the back of the room. Thomas perked up and followed anxiously as they went through the passageway. The first person he saw was the curly headed kid and he made a painful cry as he ran to him. He grabbed the boy into a limp hug as he jumped into the bed with him and screamed his name. _Chuck_. Tears were streaming down his face again and he squeezed his friend so tight he thought his own heart might explode. He kissed the top of his moppy head and held him to his chest.

Stiles walked over and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder as he whispered, “Thomas…we need to go.”

“You don’t understand!” Thomas’ words were almost unintelligible and full of blubbering. “He died! I watched him die in my arms! He died saving me! How…how is he alive?”

Stiles didn’t have the heart or the time to explain everything to him in that moment. “Thomas..it’s…what happened wasn’t…” Stiles couldn’t find the words and Scott was giving him looks that they really needed to leave. “Look, my dad is the sheriff, and he’s on his way here right now with every cop in the county. They’re coming for them and they’re all going to be okay, but we need to go.”

Thomas didn’t want to let Chuck go, afraid he might lose him again or that none of this was real. He looked to Stiles who was nodding and he gently laid the boy in his arms back down into the bed. He looked over and saw the raven haired boy next to Chuck. Minho. On the other side of the room, across from them was Newt. They were all here, all his friends. They were safe, for the most part. He swung his leg over the edge of the bed and hopped off, standing up tall. He wiped his nose and sniffled, then wiped off his shoulders. Scott chuckled because it amazed him how the three of them could be different people, but so similar. He had seen Stiles and Mitch make the same motion and despite having the same face but a different appearance, that simple movement made them all almost indistinguishable.

“You ready?” Stiles asked politely, making sure Thomas was okay to leave now. He nodded and followed the other two boys out into the hallway.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey! Are you guys okay?” Isaac ran up to Mitch and Lydia as they reached the back entrance to the building. “I saw you run inside and thought I could help.”

Mitch gave the blonde a once over and sarcastically responded. “Yeah, well, you missed the party.” Lydia made a gasp and smacked his shoulder jokingly. Isaac pulled in his eyebrows and then looked to their hands intertwined.

Lydia noticed and pulled her hand away quickly and rubbed the palm down the side of her pant leg. “So the jeep is still here, but where are the two brain cells?” She questioned as she pointed towards the baby blue vehicle. Mitch shrugged and looked to Isaac who reciprocated the response. Lydia rolled her eyes and crossed her arms as she sighed. “Well aren’t you two helpful.” Lydia looked up to the building across the street, but it was too far to make anything out on the roof. “What about Allison?”

“Oh, she’s fine. Everything was quiet up there. She was just worried about everyone. She’s probably watching us right now.” Isaac turned around and waved at the building, not even thinking to try and see her, assuming she was actually watching them like a hawk.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“What do you want?” Allison choked out her words, the long fingers still constricting her airway. 

The man leaned in and whispered as his lips brushed the tip of her ear. “Power.” His voice rattled her eardrums and sent a wave of cold through her. He loosened his grip and moved back again. “You do know who I am, otherwise, you wouldn’t be this frightened.”

Standing her ground and still holding back her fearfulness, she answered with force. “I’ve heard things, but not much. I don’t know your name though, just what you did.” He looked interested in what she had to say, to hear her rendition of the story. “All I know is that you were a druid who became corrupt and made himself immortal. Then you were punished for it.”

“Tsk tsk tsk. They left out all the best parts.” He laughed and his eyes looked almost black now, full of a darkness. He looked like he was about to speak again when a loud siren reverberated through the air of the night. Both Allison and the man shot their glances to the back entrance of the building she was supposed to be watching.

~~~~~~~~~~

([song suggestion for this scene](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fm.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DbQqUYFjcyOc&t=YTEyYWQ2YThkZTUyM2YwZGRjNWVkNWRhOTIxMGFkYzcyNWRmODQ2ZCxFQzRBSkFkMg%3D%3D&b=t%3AufInpPuidUMU6l6O-HCMyA&p=https%3A%2F%2Fdylinski.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F189582813310%2Fdoppelg%25C3%25A4nger-series&m=1))

“Alright, we’re just gonna go back the way we came, which seems simple enough.” Stiles shrugged and raised his eyebrows with optimism at Scott just as, almost like clockwork, footsteps echoed down the hall. The three boys turned to see five guards running towards them. Stiles tapped Scott’s shoulder. “Yup. We need to go. We need to go like yesterday.” The trio turned and started running to the elevator, the lights dancing on and off above them as they made their way down the corridor. 

Thomas was surprisingly keeping up with Scott, despite having been in a coma for who knows how long. Stiles was trailing slightly behind, but not by much. They all crammed into the lift and Scott rapidly pressed the button for the ground floor like it would make the doors close faster. The men were approaching quickly, but there was no chance they would make it to them before the doors closed. 

A sigh of relief escaped all of their lips when the entrance shut and the small box lurched upward. With a ding, the passageway opened again and Stiles poked his head out. The coast seemed clear, so he waved them all out and they hastily made their way down the hall. Just as they rounded the corner an alarm started blaring and the lights started to flash. “COME ON!” Stiles screamed over the noise as the others followed him through the labyrinth.

They made their way to the exit, but when Stiles went to use the card, nothing happened. “They must have reset all the keycards.” Scott donned annoyance, but there was nothing Stiles could do about it. He lightly hit the side of his head and wound his eyes shut, trying to think of another option. “Alright, we have to find another way out. Maybe we can go through the front?” Scott and Thomas nodded and they all turned to leave when six guards started towards them…and they had guns.

“Stiles! We need another plan!” Scott was seriously panicking now. He could hear the pounding inside Thomas’ chest as well. Stiles was too stressed to be scared, but it was there, lingering behind his adrenaline. The three of them were just standing there, waiting for Stiles to come up with something but his mind was an endless string of non possibilities. “Stiles!”

“I KNOW SCOTT! I’M TRYING TO THINK!” He rubbed his head vigorously and gritted his teeth with frustration. “You’re a werewolf! You can take them.” Thomas shuttered at the word, but now was not the time to ask questions. He stored it for a later time.

“Yeah, but not when they have guns.” Scott gestured towards the men closing distance.

Stiles groaned and threw his hands up. He turned and placed both palms on the door as he grunted in dismay. He took a deep breath and cleared his mind, slowing everything around him. In the silence he heard a single word echoing in his mind clear as day. Spark. “Spark?” Stiles questioned under his breath.

“STILES. THEY’RE ALMOST HERE.” Thomas was patting Stiles’ back repeatedly to get his attention, but he didn’t notice.

“Be the spark.” Stiles whispered and a sudden calm came over him. “Be the spark.” He said it again with more confidence and power, loud enough for Scott and Thomas to hear.

“Stiles, what are you talking about? We need a plan.” Scott couldn’t believe that his friend was talking nonsense at a time like this. He looked at Thomas and then to the guards as he took a defensive stance. His claws started to come out and his eyes turned red. The men were only a couple feet away now and he was about to charge when Stiles turned around.

“Be. The. Spark.” Everything around them stopped. Time. The blaring sirens. The flashing lights. Everyone stopped in their tracks and looked at Stiles in pure awe. His words were laced with power. Scott and Thomas stepped back as they watched his eyes turn from their somber amber to a searing gold. Stiles raised his arms and looked at his hands as they started to glow a piercing white. His entire body radiated the hot light and electricity was literally dancing around him. He smiled mischievously as the power coursed through his veins and he looked to the unwanted men. They had to shield their eyes from him, too bright to look at directly, and so they were caught by surprise when the boy screamed and drew back his hands. He pushed them forward with all his might and all the men went flying backwards in every direction.

Stiles turned and the other two boys cleared a path as he drew back his arms again and repeated the same action. He screamed and with his movement, the whole wall that the door was attached to flew off, creating an unexplainable opening. When the dust settled, the light surrounding Stiles dissipated just as quickly as it appeared. His eyes faded back and rolled up into his head as he started to fall. Thankfully, Scott was quick and ran to catch him before he hit the ground. The last thing Stiles heard were sirens in the distance.

~~~~~~~~~~

Allison and the man in question watched as the wall flew off the building. The man seethed with rage when he was Stiles covered in light. They watched as Mitch, Lydia, and Isaac ran over to the others. The man holding Allison saw the trio that shared his face and a growl rumbled from his chest to his lips. He looked at the brown haired girl and snarled. He grabbed her arm and pulled her from the ledge as he took her into the shadows with him.


	5. Spitting Image

Lydia ran over to Scott who was holding Stiles’ limp body as Mitch followed close behind. She fell to her knees and grabbed his arms while examining him. Mitch looked over to Thomas who was standing stiffly, hugging himself, and shot a hard look before he heard Scott shouting his name.

“Mitch! Stiles’ dad is coming with the cops. You need to take Lydia and Thomas and get out of here. NOW!” Scott’s voice was strained and panicked. Mitch just gave him a curt nod of understanding and reached down to tentatively touch Lydia’s shoulder.

They were all panicking, honestly, after what they just saw. Stiles, weak, skinny and defenseless Stiles, just lit up like a Christmas tree and took out a swarm of armed guards and a whole building, but there was so much happening that none of them had the time to process it correctly. Lydia was whimpering next to Stiles, clinging to him and begging him to wake up. Mitch went in to grab her, but she pulled away not wanting to leave his side. Scott and Mitch exchanged looks when the alpha decided to speak up.

“Lydia, he’s okay. I can hear his heart beating. He’s breathing. Ambulances are going to be here any second and I’ll make sure that he gets to one, but you need to go with Mitch and Thomas. We can’t have two doppelgangers running around Beacon Hills alone.” Mitch pursed his lips at the boy and rolled his eyes, but Lydia nodded and stood up. She chewed on her bottom lip and looked at Mitch with anguish. Mitch would be lying if he said he wasn’t jealous, but he also understood. They were close and everything pointed to Stiles being hopelessly in love with the girl.

Lydia walked over to the third doppelganger who was lost in his own mind. “Thomas?” He jumped at her light touch on his arms that were cradling his chest. “We should go. You can come with us.” Still not entirely sure what was happening, or if any of it was even real, Thomas nodded and followed them to Lydia’s car.

“Isaac,” Scott called out, “I’m going to stay here with Stiles. Go find Allison, I’ll call you if we need anything.” Isaac took the orders from his alpha and nodded as he turned on his foot and ran towards the building to find his girlfriend.

One minute later, sirens were blaring and the first cop cars pulled into the large backlot with their flashing lights veiling everything in reds and blues. Stiles was still unconscious, laying in Scott's arms. Scott waved to the vehicles, signaling them to his position as the Sherrif’s SUV stopped. Stiles' dad jumped out before the thing had even fully stopped, door wide open and the engine still running.

“Stiles! Stiles!” He ran to his son and leaned down, pulling him from Scott’s arms.  _ “What happened to my son!?” _ The sheriff’s words came through gritted teeth that were laced with fear and anger.

Before Scott could answer, Stiles was swept up into his father's arms and being carried away towards an ambulance that had just parked. A paramedic climbed out of the back and met them halfway. They laid Stiles on a gurney and were running tests and making sure he wasn’t injured or bleeding. Scott cautiously lingered nearby to make sure his friend was, in fact, okay. The medic was asking the sheriff some questions about Stiles’ medical history when the boy groaned. Everyone stopped and jolted their attention to him. The medic was throwing questions at him, “Stiles? Can you hear me? Do you know where you are?” He shined a light into his eyes and Stiles raised his hand to block it out.

“What?” He sat up on his elbows and everything started to come back. “Yeah. Yeah, I know where I am.” He groaned again as he moved, his whole body aching like he just ran a ten-mile marathon. The paramedic checked out Stiles some more before he was satisfied with the boy’s state, then he headed towards the group of other boys being guided out through the gaping hole in the building.

“Stiles…” Noah spoke softly to his son.

Stiles adjusted himself again, wincing subtly while sitting up, “I’m okay dad really--”

The soft look of fear on his father's face turned to rage when he was content with his safety and he cut off his son.  _ “What were you thinking!?” _ Stiles halted and his eyes grew wide as he stared at his father. “If you think I don’t know it was you who left the ‘anonymous’ tip, you’d be sorely mistaken. What were you even doing here, Stiles?” His father finally took a breath and the young boy pouted his lips with raised eyebrows, waiting to make sure it was safe for him to speak.

“We were…” Stiles looked over to Scott as he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to soothe out a kink. Scott just gave him a face that read, ‘ _ don’t look at me _ ’. Stiles rolled his eyes and looked back to his father who was still fuming. He opened his mouth to speak when deputy Parrish ran up.

“Sheriff, we found forty-nine boys in the sublevel basement…” Parrish tore his eyes from Noah and looked to Stiles for a short second, “...just like the anonymous tip said.” Awesome, Jordan knew it was Stiles who called too.

The sheriff scrunched up his features, similar to the way Stiles does so often and turned back to his son. With a pointed finger, he spoke harshly, “I’m not finished with you,” then he followed Parrish to the building.

Scott walked over to his friend and started to chuckle. “Shut up, man,” Stiles whined as he reached out with yearning fingers for his friend to help him off the gurney. He hopped down and wobbled a bit before he found his balance. They started to walk to the jeep when Stiles looked over to the missing wall of the building, stopping in his tracks. He turned to Scott with a questioning brow and eyes full of confusion.

Scott looked just as baffled, “What?”

“The wall! What happened to it?” Stiles gestured towards the hole demandingly.

“You don’t remember?” Stiles shook his head, thinking he would never forget something like that. They both started for the baby blue vehicle again when Scott asked, “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Stiles stilled abruptly and tipped his head in thought, “We were running from the guards with Thomas and— Wait, how did we get out?” Scott looked at the ground and scuffed his shoe against the pavement thinking he really didn’t want to poke that bear right now, especially since he didn’t fully understand what had happened himself. Stiles picked up on it and shrugged his shoulders as they took the few steps left to the jeep and got in, headed for his house.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lydia used her key that Stiles gave her forever ago to unlock the door to the Stilinski home and they went up into Stiles’ room. Mitch guided Thomas by his bicep up the stairs and gruffly pushed him to sit on the edge of the bed as Lydia paced back and forth. Mitch walked over and blocked her path as he grabbed her shoulders and held her at a distance. She was worrying her bottom lip between her teeth and picking at her cuticles apprehensively.

“Hey, hey. Look at me.” Lydia was avoiding his gaze, but Mitch touched a light finger to her chin, lifting her head up to meet his eyes half-heartedly. “It's going to be okay. He’s going to be okay.” She gave him a soft smile just as Thomas cleared his throat and stood up.

“Is anybody going to tell me what the hell is going on?” Thomas was beyond confused and frustrated. It was like being thrust into the maze all over again with no memory, but this time his only memories were that of the world he had left behind, a vague fog veiling them like a distant dream.

Lydia walked over to him and took a deep breath, composing herself. “We need to wait for Stiles, he’ll explain everything when he gets here.”

“Who? Crazy glow stick boy!?” Mitch snorted at the statement and Lydia shot him a hard look before she turned back to Thomas and rested her hand on his shoulder.

“Yes. He knows what happened to you, but we don’t, so we’re going to just have to wait.” Lydia offered assurance.

Thomas let out a long huff and frustration filled him to the brim. “Why won’t anyone tell me anything!? This is bullshit! You guys know something! Why did Stiles call that kid with the red eyes a werewolf? Why did he have red eyes? How did he have claws? What happened to Stiles? Why did he light up? What the hell is he? Why do I look like him? Why do I look like you? What the hell is a doppelganger and why did the glowy eye kid call me one? Why was I in that place? Why can’t I remember anything other than the maze? What were they doing to me?”

Thomas was shouting his spew of questions and stepped too close into Lydia’s personal space. Before he could spit out any more queries Mitch was at him in less than a second. He pushed the smaller boy back onto the bed hard, stepping between him and Lydia. He let out a small growl at the kid’s face immediately melted into compliance.

Lydia groaned and pressed her hand to her forehead. She glowered at Mitch and he rolled his eyes, then turned to the other boy to make a threatening glare and stepped away. Thomas responded with a mocking face and crossed his arms.

“Thomas, we’re going to answer all your questions, okay?” Lydia’s voice was soft now and she gave him an easy smile. “We just need—”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. We just need to wait for Stiles.” Thomas rolled his eyes and was done talking to both of them.

There were a couple of minutes filled with silence before they heard the front door open then two sets of hard footsteps trailing towards the bedroom. The door swung open and Stiles halted in its frame, giving Lydia a look of confusion. “Whaaaat are you guys doing here?”

Lydia flared her nostrils and looked to Scott who just shrugged. When no one said anything, she threw her arms up and finally answered. “Well, I’m not taking them to my house. Where else am I supposed to take a bunch of doppelgangers?”

Stiles nodded in annoyed agreement as Thomas stood up in frustration. “There’s that word again! What the hell is a doppelganger!?” Mitch started towards the boy, but Lydia held her arm out to stop him. He relaxed at her touch, but only slightly. Stiles was about to answer Thomas when the front door opened again and everyone froze.

_ “STILES. GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE.” _ It was his dad.

Everyone stood in motionless silence as eyes traded skittish glances between the five of them. When no one moved to come up with a solution, Stiles rolled his eyes and groaned. “You three stay here and be quiet.”

Lydia shot him a look and whisper-shouted, “Well, obviously.” Stiles made a mocking smile and walked off, then Scott closed the bedroom door with his lips in a thin line and followed him downstairs.

Stiles rushed down the steps and saw his father standing in the living room with his fingers holding the bridge of his nose. He looked up to see the two boys as he pulled in his lips and shook his head. He waggled his finger at them, “You two…” Stiles held up his hands in surrender as his father pointed to the couch and ordered them to sit down. His dad followed and sat in the armchair diagonally from them.

They all sat in silence for a time while Stiles’ father collected his thoughts, making no attempt to mask his fury. Eventually, his father found enough strength to speak calmly, but his voice was still jagged and laced with ire. “What were you two doing there?” 

Stiles and Scott looked perplexed as they exchanged glances. “Would you believe we were in the neighborhood?” Stiles shrugged with an optimistic grimace. A throaty grumble sounded from his father.

Obviously, Noah wasn’t going to get a straight answer, so he moved on to the next question. “How did you know about the kids?”

Stiles winced, “Lucky guess?” His father lost the little composure he had left and shot a look that could kill at his son.

“Would either of you like to explain to me the missing wall!?” 

Stiles raised his hands and smirked, “Uh, that one I actually have no idea.” The sheriff looked to Scott who was scared shitless. Again, not poking that bear yet. Stiles just rolled his eyes at his friend, not understanding why he won’t tell anyone what happened.

Noah huffed and was growing more irritated by the second with the lack of cooperation. “Well, what am I supposed to do with you two? Huh?” Stiles shrugged again and seemed unphased by his father. Listing each item off with his fingers, Noah spoke, “We have breaking and entering, theft, destruction of property, assault, kidnapping…” Stiles jerked his head at ‘kidnapping’ and donned confusion. “Yeah, kidnapping Stiles. There were fifty beds in that basement and we only found forty-nine boys.”

Stiles looked at Scott and gulped visibly. If his dad wasn’t sure if they knew anything before, he was positive they did now. Stiles turned to his dad, his voice uneasy, “We have no idea—”

“Stiles!” His father cut him off and held up his hand. “I’m done playing these games. You need to tell me what the hell is going on right now before I lock you up myself. Is that what it’s going to take to keep you out of trouble? Because I’m getting tired of this, son.” 

Stiles looked at his feet and picked at his fingers as the guilt hit him hard. He never means to cause his father this much stress and frustration, it just kind of comes along with the package of having Stiles as a son. He looked up at Scott who shrugged a shoulder and gave a sympathetic smile. Stiles knew Scott thought it was a good idea to tell his dad, he had told him that when it all started, but it wasn’t his place to.

Stiles looked to his father, took in an agonizing breath and leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees. How do you tell someone this? How do you even start? ‘Hey Dad, I’m one of three doppelgangers, that we know of, of an evil druid who’s thousands of years old. Oh yeah, he’s immortal too!’ This isn’t something you can just say to your father. How is he supposed to tell him that his eyes, his mother’s eyes, aren’t actually his?

His dad used to drink after she passed and when he was drunk one night he mentioned how he looked just like his mother. Her eyes, lips, nose, and especially her smile. How does he tell him those aren’t even his? Is there a good way to tell someone that their son isn't their son because he’s not even sure if he’s a real person himself, but just some copy of the original?

Tears started to well in Stiles’ eyes and his voice croaked when he spoke. “Dad…” The word sounded foreign in his tongue like it didn’t belong to him. Was he technically still his son? His father reoriented in his seat, his posture changing from offensive to concerned. “You have to promise you won’t freak out, okay?” Stiles peered at his father from behind his clasped hands, filled with trepidation.

His father leaned forward onto his knees, more disquieted than angry now. “Son, it’s okay. You can tell me.” He saw the fear in his child's eyes and wanted nothing more than to snatch it away. He wanted to take it all, all the pain and hurt Stiles had ever felt and will feel. That’s his son and he has a primal need to protect him, but he felt like he’d utterly failed in that department. He keeps trying, but he can’t protect his son if he doesn’t know what the threat is.

Stiles continued to struggle with his words and Scott noticed. He nudged Stiles’ knee with his own and gave him a soft smile of reassurance. “It’s your dad, Stiles. He’ll love you no matter what.” As if his best friend could read his mind, that was exactly what he needed to hear.

Stiles cleared his throat and sat up straight, “Dad, I’m a doppelganger.” His father's face turned to confusion and Stiles realized his dad had no clue what he was talking about. “A doppelganger is like...a copy of someone else.” His father’s face was even more distraught. Okay, that explanation didn’t help. Stiles sighed and looked to Scott for help, but was offered none. “A doppelganger is like having a twin, dad, but the two people aren’t related. They’re exactly the same; their face, voice, everything.”

Noah held his chin as he processed the information provided to him. He let his hand fall as he opened his mouth, but only silence escaped. He adjusted himself in his seat and Stiles started to bounce his leg with nervousness. “So...you’re a....dobble wanker?”

Stiles sat up straight with wide eyes and waved his hands outwards, “Oh God, dad, no. That’s— No just— That’s not it at all.” His father made an unamused face at him. “Doppelganger. It’s doppelganger. Please never say that again.”

His father groaned and wrapped his fingers around his brow in frustration, “Stiles, I think I would know if my son was…” He was struggling with the word again so he motioned vaguely, “...one of those things.”

“Well dad, you would think that, but I had no idea myself until about a week ago.” His father shot him a glance and Stiles immediately cringed, realizing his mistake.

“ _ A WEEK!? THIS HAS BEEN GOING ON FOR A WEEK?! _ Oh, it all makes sense now. The staying out late, not answering my calls or texts, answering my questions with more questions or changing the subject. The half-truths and talking in circles. But I still don’t believe you’re a...whatever you call it.”

Stiles’ head fell into his hands as he realized his father wasn’t going to believe him without any evidence. While his father was well aware of the supernatural world and the creatures that lived in it, he was a man of facts and logic. The type of person who needed to see in order to believe. He groaned because the last thing he wanted to do was bring Thomas or Mitch downstairs. He was convinced his father would have a heart attack if he saw one of them, but alas, what other choice did he have at this point? “I can show you. There are...three of us that we know of if you’re not including the original.”

“ _ Three!? _ What do you mean there are three of you? Original? Stiles, for the last time, you are not a dingle wacker.” Stiles closed his eyes and took a deep breath, not even bothering to correct his father this time.

“Give me a sec.” Stiles pushed off the couch with haste and lost his balance for a short second, forgetting how weak he really felt after passing out earlier. Scott grabbed is hip to help balance him, but Stiles brushed him off and mouthed ‘I’m fine.’ His father was shouting his name as he made his way up the steps, protesting him leaving. He got to his room and opened the door to see Mitch and Lydia arguing in hushed tones in the corner while Thomas was still sitting on the bed like a child who just had his toy taken away. “Mitch.” The older man looked up with question and Stiles just jerked his head towards the hallway. All of them knew what Stiles was asking so Lydia looked to her friend with uncertainty, but he gave her a forced smile. 

Stiles turned and winced as it took all his energy to dredge himself back downstairs. The last thing he needed was everyone worried about his physical state in the middle of this chaotic muddle. Mitch followed him to the top of the staircase until Stiles stopped and held out a hand. “You look like shit.”

Stiles sighed and looked at his reflection in Mitch’s eyes. They were like dark brown oceans that could swallow you whole. “I’m okay.” Mitch huffed and crossed his arms, not believing him.

Stiles turned and descended down the steps to prepare his father.

“Okay, I know you don’t believe me, because honestly, I wouldn’t have believed it myself, so I’m going to show you.” Stiles paused and took a deep and reassuring breath. “Dad, you have to not freak out because the last thing I need is you going into cardiac arrest.”

“Stiles, I am not going to have a heart attack. What are you talking about?” The sheriff had his arms crossed over his chest and rolled his eyes familiarly.

His son waved up to the top of the steps and a body slowly came down. When his face came into view, Stiles swore everyone in the room could hear the sound of his heart beating outside of his chest. The room was so silent that is was deafening, and everyone was too scared to break it. Mitch stood next to Stiles with a bored face as he crossed his arms and looked to the old man sitting in the chair. Stiles looked between Mitch and his father, but there was nothing. It was like they had frozen in place and he didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. He looked to Scott who was just as terrified as he was.

His father finally stood up and walked over to the identical boys. He stood in front of the older of the two and looked him over, invading his space. He was taller than his son, but not by much. His hair was longer too, and the presence of a beard and mustache where Stiles still couldn’t manage one. There was a permanent line on his brow, something that was etched into his skin from the constant furrow of his forehead.

Noah crossed his arms and squinted like he was trying to read one of those posters with the letters when you go to the eye doctor. He started to make noises of curiosity here and there, lightening the tone of the group. He was analyzing Mitch like someone would a sculpture in an art museum.

Stiles’ eyes widened as he slowly made his way to Scott, his father not even noticing. He whispered from the corner of his mouth, refusing to break his lock on his father and Mitch, “Scott, what’s happening? Why isn’t he saying anything?” His friend shook his head, just as perplexed as him.

His father finally broke the silence and everyone looked to him. “Alright. Okay.” He started to walk towards the chair. “This is okay.”

“Uhm, yup. I broke him. He’s broken. My father has officially lost his marbles.” Scott just quietly chuckled at Stiles’ discomfort and despair.

“We’re all okay.” Noah sat down in the chair and let out a long sigh and the room fell quiet again, but only for a moment. His father let out a loud and unending scream that drew shock from the whole house.

_ “Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! _ This is worse! This is much much worse! Scott, make it stop! How do I make it stop!?” Stiles was frantically babbling and beginning to have a minor panic attack, his breaths becoming uneven and short. Scott just tried to comfort him.

Mitch looked to Stiles and then his screaming father and rolled his eyes as he spoke, “Great, it’s genetic.”

Lydia sauntered down the steps and tried to speak over the shouting and panic, “What is going on?” Both of the Stilinski’s were too self-involved at the moment to even notice her presence.

Mitch sighed and pointed to Stiles, “Well that one is having a panic attack,” He pointed to the older man, “and that one is having a mental breakdown.”

Lydia sighed and turned as she heard Thomas hopping down the steps two at a time behind her and Mitch. “I told you to stay upstairs.”

Just as Thomas went to speak, Noah turned and saw the third doppelganger. His shouts had died down, but they picked up again and were now laced with profanities. He was babbling nonsense and holding his head for fear it would roll off his shoulders. Thomas was starting to panic and become defensive. Everything in his body made his legs twitch and beg him to run, just run as far away from all of them and this ridiculousness as you could and not look back.

Lydia had enough of all of them, so she used her banshee voice, a demanding and humbling tone. “ _ ALL OF YOU, SHUT UP. _ ”

As if it had flipped a switch, everyone shut their mouths and it was silent again. They all looked to her submissively and in awe. “Now, are you all a bunch of children? Because that is exactly how you’re acting. Stop throwing your tantrums and use your words.” She turned to the sheriff, “Yes, Stiles is a doppelganger. This is Mitch and the other one is Thomas.” She turned over to Stiles, “Pull it together. You’re not helping your father, he needs you right now.” Then she turned to Mitch who was laughing under his breath. “And you, this is not funny. Just because you have this whole I don’t care thing going on doesn’t mean that everyone else doesn’t.” His ever so slight smile disappeared as he took offense to her words. “Since everyone has been put in their place,” she grabbed her coat off the chair at the kitchen table, “I am going home because I am way too tired and unprepared to deal with all of this.” With that, she walked out of the door and left the men to fend for themselves in stunned silence.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Allison opened her eyes and saw nothing but black. She was lying on the cold rigid floor with her hands bound behind her back. She couldn’t help but run her tongue across the cloth that was between her teeth to muffle any noise she would attempt to make. She managed to sit herself up and started to wiggle her shoulders in an effort to shake the ropes loose. She went to pull a small knife from her arm when a chilling and familiar voice broke through the darkness.

“If you’re looking for the blade in your sleeve, don’t bother.”

Allison froze and searched the void for the person who spoke, but she couldn’t see more than three inches in front of her face. She had other weapons hidden on her person, but it was safe to assume that the man found them all. She continued to blink, trying to differentiate the darkness from movement, and could have sworn she saw something red pass quickly.

Her body stiffened when she felt a contrasting warmth to the air of the room, becoming aware that the man was now close to her. He must have been squatting behind her because he was whispering into her ear now. “If you’re still wondering what my name is, I have two. My given name…” he sounded disgusted by the thought, “...and my chosen name.” He was much more satisfied with the idea of the chosen name. He circled around in front of her and loosened the fabric in her mouth, letting it fall around her neck as she wet her dry lips. He squatted back down so they were now face to face with only a small distance between them.

Her eyes, now adjusting to the obfuscation of the room they were in, she could just make out her captor’s face. “I’m assuming you want me to ask you what they are?” Allison’s throat was sore and cracked when she spoke, the dry air not a friend to her parched mouth.

The man chuckled and stood to tower over her. “You can call me Morfran.”

Allison pulled in her brows. “You chose that?”

“Why are you so surprised?” He was genuinely curious as to what her thoughts were.

“Morfran was the name of a soldier to King Arthur in Welsh mythology. His skin was charcoal black and so hideous that no one would strike him in battle for fear he was a demon.” 

“I’m impressed. You know your welsh mythology. You forget what the meaning of the name is though. Morfran, great crow, bringer of death.”

Allison shuddered at the idea. “So is that what you’re going to do? Kill me?” She held back her fear, but it was still evident in her voice.

“Maybe.” Morfran seemed indifferent on the matter like he hadn’t entirely made his mind up yet.

“Then what are you going to do with me?”

Morfran was squatting next to her again, close enough to feel his hot breath against her cheek. “You’re going to tell me about your friends.” Allison opened her mouth to protest, but before she could get out any words she felt a sharp pain in the back of her neck and a silent scream escaped her lips. Her eyes rolled back into her head and everything went dark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

After Lydia left, Mitch and Thomas went back to Stiles’ room while he continued to explain everything that had happened during the last few days to his dad. When his father's head was thoroughly spinning, he tried to absorb what he could before he left to finish his shift and the mountain of paperwork his son had just caused him. Stiles was drained and tired on top of still being in pain, everywhere. He was going to kick the boys out of his room so he could sleep. When he got up from the couch with Scott, Isaac flew through the door and looked like he was about to break down into tears.

Scott ran over to him and grabbed his shoulders. Isaac was trying to speak but his breaths were shallow and deep like he had been running for hours. “Isaac, what is it? What’s wrong?”

He looked at Scott with weary eyes and a forehead full of lines. “She’s gone. I can’t find her.”

“What? What are you talking about? Who’s gone?” Scott was trying to calm the beta down while pressing for answers.

Just as Isaac was about to speak, Stiles cut him off, “Allison.”

They got Isaac to the couch and he explained to the two other boys what had happened. “After you told me to get Allison, I went up to the roof, but she wasn’t there. Her bow and knife were on the ground, but that’s all I could find of her. Not even a scent. I thought I could smell another wolf, but I assumed it was just me since I’m still not very good with tracking and scenting. I just don’t get why I couldn’t catch hers. I went to her house to see if she was there, but it was empty. I got one of her shirts and followed the smell to the edge of town, but then it just disappeared. When I lost it, I came right here.”

He looked between Stiles and Scott who were standing in front of him, waiting frantically for a response. They were both fixated on the floor while deep in thought. Isaac was growing impatient, so he shot up from the couch and raised his voice. “Well!? We have to find her!”

“Woah, Isaac. It’s okay.” Scott reached out to comfort his beta, and it seemed to help. Isaac relaxed a bit and slumped back down into the cushions.

Stiles looked up while rubbing his chin and gave Scott a worrying face. He darted his eyes towards Isaac and then back, implying he didn’t want to say what he was thinking. He jerked his head towards the kitchen and Scott lead them in that direction. Stiles spoke in a hushed tone, “What if…” He took a staggering breath and knew he would immediately regret it after he said it, but continued, “What if it’s the druid?”

Scott’s eyes grew and he was shocked, the possibility never occurred to him. Stiles side-eyed Isaac on the couch, picking at the end of the armrest perpetually. “Scott, we need to go look for her. We can't leave her out there with him. We know nothing about him. He could be capable of anything and from what Deaton told us, or lack thereof, he doesn’t sound like a nice guy.”

Stiles went to grab his coat he had tossed onto the kitchen counter when Scott took his arm. “No, you can’t.” Stiles shot Scott a baffled glance and Scott shook his head. “You’re in no condition, and Isaac and I would have better luck anyways. You need to stay here and rest, talk to Thomas. I can hear his heart all the way down here. He reeks of anxiety and stress.”

Stiles let out a small sigh, thankful for the suggestion, but he still felt the guilt in the pit of his stomach. He should be out there, she’s his friend too. Scott was right though, what could he do but slow the wolves down? He nodded and watched as Scott called out to Isaac. His friend gave him a reassuring smile before the two of them left.

Stiles sat down in the kitchen at the counter and closed his eyes, allowing himself to finally breathe. A flash of white invaded the darkness of his lids and he jumped up, his whole body rigid and tense. “What the hell..?” He looked down and examined the tops and bottoms of his hands, then shook his head like it was all just a dream. 

His attention was grabbed by the sounds of arguing upstairs and he slouched, rolling his eyes and letting his head fall back. “Seriously?“ The last thing he wanted to deal with right now was his two twins. Twins? Triplets? Or just doppelgangers? Honestly, Stiles wasn’t sure what to call them but all he could focus on was his bed and how ardently it called to him. He dragged himself to his room sluggishly and opened the door to shouting.

“What is wrong with you? Did someone shit in your shoe or something?” Thomas was standing chest to chest with Mitch, both of them fuming and locked in their gaze. Despite the obvious four inches Mitch had on the boy, he didn’t seem to be intimidated.

Mitch pulled his lips into a thin line and his eyes widened like he was preparing to headbutt the sucker, just as Stiles ran over. He pushed his way between the two of them and shouted, “Hey, hey, hey! Now, let's not all overreact.” The other two were still staring at each other and Stiles was now stuck between them like a doppelganger sandwich, instantly regretting the impulse to put himself in this position.

Through gritted teeth, Mitch refused to give any headway, “I’m not the one overreacting.” He pressed in further, pushing Stiles tighter between the two of them.

“Oh my God,” Stiles whispered under his breath. Despite all the fighting Stiles had learned to do over the years, it wasn’t natural to him. He was a lover if he really thought about it, but these two, they were undoubtedly born and bread fighters. All Stiles could think about was how he was going to be some sort of causality of war. He managed, somehow, to wiggle his way free and was now standing lateral to the others, forming a triangle.

“Guys, guys. Just take it easy, okay?” They both turned to glare at his unwelcome antics and Stiles took an unknowing step back. Come on, he just wanted to sleep. He was so exhausted, still not entirely sure why, not to mention his body in a constant state of aching.

“This kid won’t stop asking questions!” Mitch seemed less assertive than five seconds ago, but that wasn’t saying much.

Thomas crossed his arms over his chest defensively and spouted out yet another question. “Why are you acting like such a dickhead?” He turned to Stiles, “Sergeant asshole and the redhead kept saying I had to wait for you to explain everything. No one will tell me shit!”

Stiles opened his mouth to speak and raised his hand while the other rested on his hip, but he stilled. Glancing over at Mitch, he closed his mouth and pursed his lips not entirely sure where to start.

A look of annoyance was growing on Thomas’ face and Stiles knew he had to answer his questions. He sighed and got light-headed, both boys leaning in to catch him as he started to keel over.

~~~~~~~~~

“What the hell!?” Stiles sat up, putting all his weight onto his right hand while rubbing above his left eye with the other. He heard a groan to his left and saw Thomas pulling himself up from the floor to lean against the end of his bed. He looked over to Mitch and saw that there was no movement. He crawled over to him and looked him over with alarm. “Mitch! Mitch! Dude, wake up!” He wasn’t stirring so he grabbed his shoulders and gave him a timid shake. “Hey, man, you gotta open your eyes, okay?” He leaned down and turned his ear to his nose and mouth and could hear his small, steady breaths. Stiles fell back onto his butt and hands and sighed in relief.

“What was that?” Stiles turned to Thomas who had managed to sit on the bed. He decided he was too drained and whatever the hell had kicked his ass to the ground didn’t help, so he laid down on the floor next to Mitch. He let his right hand slap onto his stomach and he twiddled the ends of his hair with the other which was raised over his head.

“Honestly, I don’t know dude.” Stiles found solace in starting up at the ceiling and, for the first time, Thomas was quiet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Allison gasped for breath and sat up abruptly in the middle of a green pasture. She looked around, her long hair dancing around her face like a frame. Standing up, she tried to place her surroundings but found them unrecognizable. She could hear people in the distance, so she started in the direction of the voices.

She found herself in a village filled with wooden homes and tents, animals and many laughing children. The women wore long cloth dresses, simple pieces that were sewn together. The men were wearing large shirts and pants that tucked tight around their waists. Everything was primitive compared to the world she knew—simple lives.

None of the villagers seemed to notice her as she made her way through the small grouping and she found a hut tucked away at the edge of the development. Something from inside it pulled at her, so she went to it sluggishly, passing through its entrance.

Inside the structure, a man and women traded hushed whispers. Allison couldn’t quite make out their words. Something about  _ wrong _ and  _ mistake _ . They were both undoubtedly frightened as the man tried to comfort the woman.

Allison was completely still, but the world around her began to blur until it moved. She was in the woods, watching four young boys from a distance. Three of the bigger ones looked to be bullying the smaller fourth one. Anger evident on the little ones face, his fists closed and jaw clenched. The others were throwing slurs at him, saying he was puny and weak, and he wouldn’t survive the winter.

The world shifted again, the little boy now standing in front of the same woman she saw before, but older. She was yelling at him to control  ** _it_ ** . No one could know what he was, what he hid inside of himself. If anyone found out, they would kill him out of fear.

As if she were the boy herself, she felt a hot fury in her stomach. That’s what the boy wanted, to be feared. His mother seemed to change in stature and become more loving, telling him how she feared for him and didn’t know what she would do if she lost him. The boy relaxed as well and they embraced one another.

Everything swirled and Allison was in the woods again but enveloped in darkness, the only source of light beaming from the full moon above her. She heard a reverberating howl from an unknown place and spun her head out of instinct, her hair flowing with the movement. She precipitously felt under threat and discovered her feet moving without thought. She was running through the trees, panting with each step that connected with the ground. Realizing there was no immediate danger, she stopped and looked around. She took in her surroundings in an attempt to figure out where she was.

Movement some feet away caught her attention and she snapped her head in that direction. She heard growling and it was soon met with a figure revealing from the brush. A white wolf, with cutting ruby iris’.

A voice shouted from the distance, “Maccon!” The wolf tore his gaze from Allison and looked to its location. He glanced back at the girl with intrigue and then dashed towards the person who had called for him.

The world around Allison went black and she felt cold, a pain radiating at the base of her skull. Something tore from her neck and she fell over on the ground that was stealing warmth from her body. She was back from whatever journey she had taken.

Keeping her eyes open was a struggle, the room she was in spinning in a dizzying trance. Morfran walked into her vision and leaned forward over her, a devious smile on his lips. 

“Maccon,” Allison whispered so quietly it couldn’t have been heard by human ears. Morfran’s cheeky grin melted away and turned down, his nose twitching with anger. Then her eyes closed and there was nothing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He hadn’t realized it, but Stiles started to drift off. Somewhere in the midst of the haze between consciousness and sleep, Thomas broke the easy silence. “Is Sergeant asshole okay? Shouldn’t he be awake by now?” Stiles shifted his head to get a good look at Mitch whose chest was rising and falling with ease.

“Nah, he’ll be fine. He’s tough as nails.” He could hear Thomas humming in response and let his eyes close again. “He doesn't hate you, you know? He's just...guarded. Doesn’t trust easily. Hell, I’m pretty sure he still doesn’t entirely trust me. Just give him some time.” Thomas thrummed acknowledgment.

“What are we?” Thomas sounded like a small child, but Stiles had no energy left to offer any sort of comfort. He just answered his questions as well as he could while fighting his fatigue.

“Uh, we’re doppelgangers. Like...copies, I guess.”

“Copies?”

“Yeah. We look the same and sound the same, but we’re not related. Clones if you really think about it. Supernatural clones.”

“If we’re clones, who’s the original?”

“We don’t know much about him, but he’s a druid, someone who practices magic. Supposedly he’s some super evil dude who wanted to be super powerful and fucked with some shit he shouldn’t have. That’s how we were made, I guess.”

“Oh.” Thomas seemed unsure of the answers, trying to process it all but everything was so uncertain to him. He had just been ripped from a world he thought was his own only to discover it wasn’t even real. It felt like it was, so how was he supposed to tell if this was real or not either. “How did you find me?”

“A dream, oddly enough. It was like I was you, and I was running in this stone maze. There was this kid running with me--”

“Minho,” Thomas spoke softly when his name passed his lips, almost like he was afraid someone would hear it.

“Yeah, I guess. But we were running and there was this ugly ass monster thing straight out of a sci-fi movie, but I, erm, I mean you killed it. Did that really happen?”

“Yeah.”

“Badass,” Stiles spoke with a smile growing on his face as he heard a breathy laugh from Thomas.

“Why was I there? What was Wicked doing to me?”

“From what I could tell, they were experimenting on you, but I don’t know why. Everything that happened to you wasn’t real. It was an artificial reality, so kind of all in your head.”

“Do I have a family?” This question startled Stiles. He opened his eyes and sat up on his elbows to look at the other boy. He was still sitting in the same spot he had last seen him, looking down at Stiles.

“Yeah, I’m sure you have a family.” Stiles smiled sympathetically and Thomas tried to return it, but it was too sad to pass. Stiles hadn’t thought about that. They had probably been missing him and looking for him. He made it his mission to find his parents in that moment. Once they figured all this shit out, he’d get Thomas home.

Thomas looked towards the window, “Then why didn’t they come for me?” Stiles tried to answer but didn’t have one this time. He just looked the boy over, who couldn’t be more than sixteen. His hair was a little shorter than Stiles’ and his bangs fell down onto his face. He was surprisingly skinnier than Stiles too, but also less lanky. His features were softer than the other two boys like he’d been through a lot but refused to give up hope. Stiles laughed internally, he could use some more of that, always the pessimist.

“What the fuck?” Stiles was shaken from his trance and turned his head to look at Mitch who was grabbing at his head.

“Hey! Welcome back to the land of the living.” He offered a half-genuine, half-mocking smile.

“God, why are you on the floor? Why am I on the floor?”

“Dunno. We all just kinda passed out or something. It was when--” Stiles shook his head and sat all the way up, pulling his legs into a criss-cross. “Dudes, it was when you both touched me at the same time! We were all touching. It must have done something!”

“Great,” Mitch groaned as he pushed himself off the floor and sat in Stiles’ computer chair. “We’ll add it to the list of crazy shit doppelgangers can do.”

“Yeah! Wait, what?” Stiles turned back to face Mitch again.

“The wall?” Stiles stared blankly, blinking his eyes in response. “You know? The big gaping hole in the side of the building?” He shrugged his shoulders, still not understanding what Mitch was getting at.

“You turned into a freaking glowstick!” Thomas grew impatient so he tore the band-aid clean off.

Stiles jumped up from the floor, “I did what!?”

“You seriously don’t remember?” Mitch was still rubbing the back of his head on the spot that collided with the floor.

“Mitch, I think I’d remember turning into a damn firefly.”

Thomas stood up next to Stiles, “Well, you did. You were so bright no one could look at you. It was like this white light and it looked like lightning was shooting out of you. Oh! And you’re eyes were gold.” Stiles was exasperated and his hands flew in all directions around his head as he twisted his features, trying to comprehend what was happening.

“Don’t forget the wall,” Mitch added.

Thomas nodded at him, “Yeah, and you blew the wall off the side of the building with your mind.”

“ _ MY MIND?! _ ” The vein in Stiles’ neck was prominent and Mitch kind of thought he might have an aneurysm.

Mitch leaned forward in the chair and licked his lips, “Stiles, do you remember the book we found in that vet’s office?”

Stiles turned abruptly from Thomas to face Mitch, “Deaton? Yeah. Why?”

“Didn’t it say something about…” Mitch looked up to Stiles like he was failing at finding the right word, “...powers?”

Stiles contemplated and it hit him like a train. “Elements! The three druid elements!”

“The what?” Thomas scratched his head and Stiles turned back and forth between the two of them.

Making a thinking face and an odd noise, Stiles held his hands out in front of him. He turned to Thomas and started to explain using his limbs as emphasizers. “Okay. So, a couple of days ago, before we knew about you, we found this book—“

“Illegally.” Stiles let his hands drop to his sides and emitted a sigh as he turned to Mitch, giving him the stink eye.

Turning back to Thomas, “Whatever. We found a book that said the druid, who mentioned earlier, decided some thousand years ago, or whatever, to get all grabby hands with power and made himself immortal. He used the three druid elements. Calas, things that are physical and how it’s all connected. Earth, land, the body, matter. Gwyar, the ebb and flow of life and instability of it all. Water, the sea, energy, the source of life itself. And Nwyfre, what makes up everything. That bit of us that could be called our soul or spirit. Sky, heavens, mind, and spark.”

“Spark,” Thomas questioned.

“Yeah?” Stiles wasn’t sure where the conversation was headed by the look of deep thought on the younger boy’s face.

“That’s...what you looked like. A spark.”

Stiles’ mouth parted and he pushed out a small gasp, mouthing the word ‘what’. Like two cogs in a machine clicking into place, it all connected and started to work in tandem. He briefly had the thought before and was on the right track. This wasn’t the first time he’d been called that. He closed his lips and gulped, the muscles in his neck moving with the action. “I have a  _ terrible _ idea.”

Mitch sat back in the chair and rolled his eyes, “Do you have any that aren’t?”

Stiles held up a finger, “First, rude. Second, I think we should all touch again. I know we got knocked on our asses before but that’s ‘cause we didn’t know what we were doing.”

“And we do now?” Mitch raised his arms behind his head, leaning back. Stiles closed his eyes and huffed.

Thomas winced and scrunched up his nose at the idea. Mitch curled in his lips and shook his head, trying to figure out how he was caught up in all of this.

“Guys, come on. Just trust me, I think this is going to work. The book said that the three elements had to come together as one. What if we’re like Voltron or the power rangers?”

Mitch pressed his palm to his face and let his fingers slide down, a groan at his lips. “Whatever. I call black ranger.” He pushed himself up from his spot and walked towards his counterpart.

Stiles perked up and was slightly dazed by Mitch’s sudden acquiescence along with the pop culture reference. He’d been pretty sure this guy was raised in a lab, but apparently that had been Thomas. “Ahh! That’s the spirit.” He waved over to Thomas to join them. The youngest of the three rolled his eyes and started towards them.

They were all standing in a triangle again, facing each other. Stiles held his arms out tentatively and spoke softly, “Alright. Mitch. Thomas.” He nodded at the space between them and Mitch groaned. He wasn’t one for physical contact. Thomas rolled his eyes and grabbed the older man’s hand. Mitch let out a soft grunt in protest but didn’t fight it. Hovering his hands over the other boy’s, Stiles let out a breath. “Okay, I hope this works.”

“Wait! I thought you sai—” Before Thomas could finish, Stiles completed the circle and time stopped. They were all pulled into a blackness of nothing and everything.

Stiles blinked and found himself floating alone in the emptiness, but he felt a buzzing of electricity on his skin, in the air around him, and inside his chest. He ran a hand over the other and a spark ignited. “Oh my god! Cool, bro.” He looked his hands over and a white electricity danced over them. Following the current rolling up his arm and onto his chest, he took a step back. He almost tripped and suddenly the space he was in was now white. He heard someone shouting his name and looked up in response, seeking out the voice.

Realizing where he was, Stiles snapped back into the moment at the Wicked facility. He felt a hot light burning into his very being like he was exploding from the inside out. It had nowhere to go but outward, forcing the energy from his body like a beacon. It shot forward and knocked the men over in front of him, flinging them like rag dolls into the walls. Did he really do that? He turned and faced Scott and Thomas, looking past them to the barrier they faced. He pulled his arms back like he was preparing to throw a punch and pushed his hands forward, emanating a force that drained him dry. He watched as the wall all but vanished, being torn from its place and crumbling to the ground. 

Stiles felt like all that power he felt was gone, leaving him hollow and wanting for more. He felt dizzy and couldn’t hold himself up, then blackness.

Thomas let out a breath that echoed into the abyss he was standing in. Despite being unable to see its beginning or end, if there was one, he knew he was in the center of it. He looked up and saw it littered with silver twinkling lights. He saw one in motion and followed it, realizing all the illuminations were connected. He looked down and found brown earth beneath his feet. Roots were lain around him, weaving in and out of the ground and he followed them to a tree. It towered in front of him standing tall and wide, an immovable force of nature.

The young boy stepped forward, raising a hand out cautiously. He touched the bark and his head flew back, shooting his mind up the extent of the tree for what felt like miles until he reached the stars. He felt a fire in his stomach, burning and raging to escape.

Thomas pulled back and for the first time in his life, wasn’t scared. He felt strong and solid like he was the tree itself. He clenched his fists at sides and felt something shoot up his arms. He looked over and saw an emerald flame enveloping his limbs. Holding his hands in front of him, he examined them closely. “Holy shit,” he laughed and noticed the fire wasn’t hot, but deadly nonetheless.

There was pressure around his ankle and he looked down to see the roots of the tree wrapping around his leg. With a yelp, he was jerked down into the earth.

Mitch was shrouded in a never-ending whiteness, almost blinding. Despite being fully clothed, he had never felt more vulnerable and naked than this moment. He wrapped his arms around his belly and tried to hold back the tears that pushed through his ducts. A cold rush filled him to the brim, a raging sea inside of him that pushed at his boundaries, pressing to seep from his pores.

He let out a sad laugh, recognizing that in spite of his controlled and calculated exterior he was a chaotic current and mess of emotions and impulses. It didn’t scare or frighten him, it empowered him. He’d always held back buried everything he ever felt down and hid it away from the world, protecting it. Like an epiphany, he found the power in his emotions and their fierceness. He opened himself up to the idea, allowing himself to feel and found that he was drowning in an open ocean with no land in sight.

Sinking down into the blue water he choked and clawed at his throat, desperate for a source of oxygen. He stopped, concluding that there was no point but found he didn’t need the air. In his stillness, he found a calm he had long searched for, a stark contrast to everything he was feeling only seconds ago. Blinking, he saw a face in the water, reaching out to him. Unknowingly, he returned the action but found they were just out of his reach.

The image came into focus and it was Katrina, like an apparition with the tendrils of light dancing over her form. He wasn’t sad or angry, just was and she smiled at him. He tried to smile back but felt arms wrapping around him from behind. He looked to his chest, that instinct of fear rising in him and was rapidly pulled back, his arms and legs dragging in front of him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Morfran stood over Allison’s limp body, fighting back his instinct to snarl when a surge of energy coursed through him and his eyes flashed vermillion. His nose twitched at the smell of copper in the air from where he cut into the girl’s neck. There was a tingling sensation over his flesh and he instantly knew what was happening. He was swallowed by the floor beneath him and dropped into a forest doused in tangerine flames.

Knowing it wasn’t real, he flicked his fingers to bring himself back to his body, but something countered it and he landed in a field of violet lilies. He let out a hideous roar and emitted a shadow over the beautiful pasture.  _ He hated the flower _ . A sliver of light broke through and a breathtaking blonde woman with hazel eyes set a path for him. Her gown flowed in the breeze and Morfran faltered. He reached out to meet her fingertips and she was ripped from him and spun into the forest again, nothing but ash now.

He fell to his hands and knees, covered in soot. He was a small boy again, crying and screaming at the moon. The image of his mother, his anchor, burning and tied to a stake in the center of the village. The screams and shouts of the villagers saying she was a witch and cursed them all. His tiny eyes filled with tears as he watched her, whispering his name, “Maccon,” as the flames lapped at her feet. She wore a smile through it all until the flames took her and enveloped her kaleidoscope eyes and ate away at her golden locks. He slammed his eyes shut and heard the resignation sound of gut-wrenching screams.

That night something in him broke, no one would ever say his name again. It belonged to his mother and no one else. He had no room left for anything but hate for the people who took his mother from him. Druids were known and typically respected, but they used her as a scapegoat for their misfortune. That was his trigger, her death that revealed he too was capable of her abilities. When the fiery power kicked in him, his wolf howled and smiled. The magic gave it strength and the wolf fed the magic. A cycle of unending energy.

The boy, no older than fifteen, screamed and a ring of fire irradiated from him, engulfing the village and the people who resided in it. They would burn with his mother. His soul hung in the balance, teetering between the choice of light or dark. Every druid faced this when they came into their powers. The possibility to be the sun or the void.

With the taste of the newfound strength on his lips Morfran hungered for more, his wolf's belly rumbling and aching for the rush that came with it. The thought of being feared rather than the one who was frightened. He was tired of being nothing, he yearned to be more; more everything. His heart chose the darkness and went down the path of those who came before him known as darach. They meddled in magic that upset the balance of the world, going against their own nature.

Morfran let out a growl laced with a scream and awoke on the floor, leaning back on his hands. He was back with his body, his mind no longer wandering the supernatural realm. There was only one reason this happened to him and it was that the bond was forged between the other three he saw earlier that night. After sifting through Allison’s mind, he knew their names as well. 

He looked to the girl across from him and decided to let her live, for what it’s worth, not that she would have much of a life. He stood up and walked over to her, whispering in her ear, “ _ Cadal, nighean òg. _ ” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last sentence Morfran says is “Sleep, young girl” in Scottish Gaelic.


	6. Dim Reflection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (apparently i should do these?)
> 
> After escaping wicked and coming into their powers, the three doppelgangers have more questions than answers. Everyone is frantically trying to figure out what the hell is going on but it feels like pieces are missing. Mitch and Derek try to get answers while the sheriff could possibly be coming at it from another angle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry its been so long between updates. lifes a bitch.

Stiles ran into the hospital, still drowsy from only having woken up thirty minutes ago. He flew past the front desk and down the hall until he spotted Scott and Isaac pacing in the waiting room. “You found her!? Is she okay? What happened?” He darted over to them, out of breath from his anxiety and rushing to get there as soon as Scott called him. He had only gotten, maybe, four hours of sleep before his phone rang.

Thomas was passed out in the beanbag chair in the corner of his room, possibly drooling, when he woke up. Mitch was up before Stiles, awoken by the ringtone. He had opened his eyes but remained completely motionless on the floor at the end of Stiles’ bed, arms crossed over his chest—of course he slept like that.

Mitch listened to Stiles’ responses and figured out what the gist of the conversation was about. “I’m going to the hospital. They found Allison. Stay here and watch him, okay?” Stiles nodded towards Thomas. Mitch rolled his eyes and let out a soft groan and Stiles squinted at him. “Think of him as your little brother.” 

“I don’t have a little brother.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles threw his arms up. “Just…make sure he’s okay.” Mitch offered a soft frown and nodded slightly. Stiles returned the gesture, “Thank you.” He went downstairs, feeling less drained than earlier, and grabbed his keys.

“It took us forever to find her,” Scott glanced over to Isaac who had large purple circles under his red bloodshot eyes. He continued in a soft tone, “We went to the last place Isaac caught her scent and looked around for hours. All of a sudden, we could smell her again. It was like she wasn’t there, and then she was.” 

Scott’s face was strained and perplexed, trying to understand how that could be without her teleporting there. “She was in an old abandoned warehouse downtown, and I swear we passed it at least six times but we never sensed her. It was almost like something was blocking her scent from us.”

Stiles paled and looked out blankly, considering what that means. He shook his head and turned back to Scott, “What else? Is she okay?” 

Scott pulled in his lips and tried to hide his doubt, but Stiles saw through it. He rolled his hands forward for his friend to spit it out. “She was unconscious when we found her.” Scott let that sink in. Stiles glared, not understanding why he was so distraught. They just had to wait and she would wake up. Why was he so pessimistic?

Scott took a staggering breath, “Stiles, there were claw marks,” Scott reached for the spot at the base of his skull, “on the back of her neck.” 

Stiles’ eyes grew wide and he took a step back. He reached for the same spot on his neck without thinking, tracing the light scars that were raised there. He remembered what it felt like to have his mind invaded by Scott. Albeit, it was to save his life, but it didn’t feel fantastic.

After his brief flashback, it occurred to him what Peter had said before Scott performed the incursion. “_If you dig into the wrong spot, or too deep, you could hit the spinal cord and paralyze them…or worse._” Stiles always assumed the worst was death, but could she be in a coma?

He shuddered and remembered what happened to Lydia when Theo did the same thing to her. She was catatonic and lost to the world for weeks. He always assumed it was because Theo wasn’t a real wolf, so it got fucked up somehow in the process. She ended up okay, so it didn’t stand out to him. 

“What..” Stiles shifted and scratched his chin as he looked to his feet. “Erm, what do the doctors say?” He looked up at Scott skeptically, almost feeling guilty for the whole thing. He planned the breakout for Thomas, he’s the reason she was there and alone and vulnerable. He should have looked for her, should have figured it out sooner.

Stiles violently scratched the back of his head and Scott saw his eyes full of emotion. Scott grabbed his arm to steady Stiles and offered a weak smile. Stiles tried to return it, but a tear fell from his eye and he chewed on his lip and let out a soft sob.

Scott pulled him into a hug, burying the brunette’s face into his chest. “Scott, it’s my fault. It’s all my fault,” Stiles whimpered into the fabric of Scott’s shirt.

Scott pushes Stiles away so he could see his face. “No. No, it’s not Stiles.” He shook his head at his distraught friend. “Stiles, this isn’t your fault, okay? It’s no one’s fault.” 

Stiles choked on the breath in his throat as he tried to calm himself, nodding and wiping away the tears with his sleeve. He stepped away from his friend and took a deep inhale.

“We don’t know anything yet. I called you as soon as we got here and they took her back. We haven’t heard from anyone since,” Scott informed Stiles. “Argent is on his way. He was out of the state on business, but he’ll be here soon.”

Stiles gulped and held back the tears that fought to escape again. He hadn’t even thought about Chris. Allison’s dad had already lost so much, the last thing he needed was to lose his only child. He thought about what his dad would do if he lost him. If Chris was anything like that, it wasn’t good.

He knew he shouldn’t take all of this on, but Stiles was so used to bearing the weight of the world. He felt everything around him all the time, like a constant aching in the back of his skull. He was observant and saw it all, things no one else noticed.

Scott always said he was glad his dad left, but he saw how pensive he was. His friend would sulk around the hallways at school, didn’t eat his lunch and just played with it with his fork. He let Stiles win all the video games and stopped telling him to shut up when he went on verbal tangents. Scott kept smiling though and if you asked him he’d tell you he was better than ever.

Although Stiles didn’t know the reason at the time, he saw the way Jackson changed when he discovered he was adopted. He saw Jackson pushing his friends away, becoming hard and cold to those who cared for him. Jackson picked up lacrosse in middle school and worked out constantly—way more than a 13-year-old should. He started hanging out with the cool kids, the ones who were fake and he could easily masquerade around. They didn’t care enough to delve into his personal life.

Stiles was the first person to see how smart Lydia was. She had everyone believing she was a dumb popular girl who only cared about fashion. No one even cared to notice she was in all AP classes and got straight A’s. Okay, maybe he also broke into the school records and found out she had a 4.9 GPA, but he didn’t need that to know she was insanely smart. She would make comments here and there that no one else would notice, but Stiles did. He never knew why she surrounded herself with those barbie buffoons when she was the smartest and most real person he had ever met.

Stiles also saw Melissa, Scott’s mom, slowly crumbling away. Scott didn’t see it, not because he was a bad son or didn’t care, he just didn’t notice the small things the way Stiles did. The quiet sighs, crying in her bedroom when he spent the night, cursing under her breath when she was doing bills and didn’t think the boys were listening. He saw the circles under her eyes from all the doubles she was working at the hospital, always wondering if it was solely for the purpose of paying the bills, or a way she could escape into her job.

Stiles saw the same things with his dad as he did with Melissa. Working long and late hours, bringing work home and continuing to let it consume him. The worst was when he would drink late at night when he thought Stiles was asleep. Noah wasn’t as bad as he was when Claudia first died, but it scared the child in Stiles. 

Most of the time Noah was depressed when he drank, but once in a blue moon, he was angry. He knew his dad loved him limitlessly, but his words still hurt. He saw his father fading away into a silhouette of the man he used to be. Sometimes he wondered if his father forgot that he lost his mom too. Stiles never got to properly mourn her, having to take care of his father as he fell apart. He lost both parents that day, for a while anyway.

His father was so much better now. The last two years had been easier and they’ve grown closer in many ways. He finally felt like he had his dad back again. Stiles had a whole new family now, a pack. Derek, Scott, Allison, Lydia, Isaac, and Jackson, although he was on a different continent. In a way, even Thomas and Mitch were his family now, connected together somehow in a way no one else could understand.

Stiles sat slouched in the waiting room chair with Scott and Isaac, but Isaac spent most of his time pacing. Stiles had gotten used to the uncomfortable hard chairs of the hospital, between visits with his mother, all the broken bones, and his own doctor visits—his dad was paranoid that he had the same disease as his mom. He found a way to sit that was somewhat bearable over the years. 

A doctor walked into the room and the three boys scrambled to their feet and rushed him. He held up his hands and took a step back. The three of them bombarded him with questions about how Allison was doing, if she would be okay, and what had happened to her. The doctor shook his head and sighed, “Is her father here yet?” 

The trio all looked at one another and then their shoes. Scott answered, “No, he’s still a few hours away. He said he should be here by six am.” It was just after four now.

“I’m sorry boys, I can’t give any information to anyone outside of her legal guardian.” He gave them a sympathetic smile and left the waiting room. Isaac looked like he was about to grab him by the throat and Scott was scratching his head. 

Stiles turned to Scott, “Is your mom working tonight?” Scott thought about it and shook his head. Stiles rolled his eyes at his own idiocy. Of course, she wasn’t working, otherwise, she’d be here with them.

“She has a shift in an hour though,” Scott remembered.

Stiles smiled, “Great! She’ll be able to tell us what’s happening.”

“What do we do for an hour? I’m losing my mind.” Isaac was pacing again and chewing on the nails of his fingers. 

The hour passed a lot faster than they thought. Stiles had gotten the three of them coffee while Scott tried to console Isaac. They all sat patiently, listening to the low voices from the TV playing a home renovation show no one was paying attention to.

Melissa walked in and they all jumped up. They huddled together as she whispered, “Allison is in the ICU. She’s still not awake and they don’t know why. Technically there’s nothing wrong with her. All her tests and scans say everything is normal, but she’s still unconscious.” She offered a sad smile.

All three boys sighed with relief. While this was a new problem, it was still alleviating to know there was no immediate threat and that she was still alive. Scott talked to his mom a bit more, catching her up about what happened to Allison without revealing too many details while Stiles thought everything through.

Her brain was fine according to the scans, so that meant no permanent damage had been done. If it wasn’t her brain or her body it had to be something else. Stiles paced back and forth, rubbing his chin and staring at the beige tiled floor. He stopped mid-step and snapped his fingers with a grin.

“What is it, Stiles?” Scott, along with everyone else was looking at him.

“So, the only thing that makes sense is that a werewolf took her because…” Stiles motioned towards the back of his neck.

Scott seemed to disagree, “Then why couldn’t Isaac or I find her? We would have sensed another werewolf.” 

Stiles thought deeply for a moment and his face paled as he spoke his thoughts aloud, “I wonder if magic can hide someone’s scent.” He fixed his gaze on the floor while everyone else tensed. “Wait, would that mean…” He looked up to Scott with horror, “The druid.”

Isaac narrowed his eyes with confusion, “Druid? What druid?”

“Yeah, I’d like to know too.” Melissa placed her hands on her hips.

Ignoring them, Stiles continued to address Scott. “Could he be here? Maybe he took Allison. I mean, it would make sense.” Stiles began to pace. “Let’s say he’s working with an alpha and he had them use their Jedi mind trick thing on her to get information. Could that be it?”

Scott rubbed his chin as he considered the possibility, “Why is she in a coma then? Her brain is fine, which means that whoever accessed her mind didn’t hurt her.” 

“That’s where the druid comes in.” Stiles chewed on his bottom lip as he presented the idea.

Melissa pulled Stiles’ attention, “How could it be this druid?”

“Well, what do druids use?” Stiles gestured his open hands towards everyone, implying he was waiting for a response. 

“Magic!” Scott was overly excited that he knew the answer and Stiles smiled at him. 

“Exactly!” Stiles pointed at Scott with gratitude. 

Melissa scrunched up her nose and furrowed her brow, “So what you’re saying is, _magic_ did this to her?” 

Stiles nodded, “It has to be. Otherwise, it doesn’t make any sense.” 

“Well, how do we fix it?” Melissa crossed her arms over her chest. 

Stiles scratched his chin and squinted his eyes, “Well, uhm. I don’t know that yet. But I can find out!”

Everyone agreed and the conversation ended shortly after. Scott took his mom aside and explained everything that had been going on the last few days since it made more sense to clue her in on the details. Chris showed up not much later and he was updated on the situation as well.

Stiles could see the anger laced with fear in his eyes and the way Chris clenched his jaw. There was a hint of sorrow pressing at his ducts, but Chris kept his composure. That was just the kind of man he was. He put things into boxes and locked them away, and it was frightening to Stiles. 

Stiles knew there was nothing he could do here, so he decided that after everyone settled he’d go back home. The fatigue was hitting him and he needed more sleep before he could think coherently enough to find answers.

The sun was peeking through the horizon when he pulled up to the house and he found peace in the stillness of the morning. He stood next to his jeep and inhaled deeply, feeling invigorated and tingly. He could feel the static and vibrations of energy in the air around him and it sent a shiver up his spine. Stiles felt like he could ignite and burst into flames right then and there, restored to his full capacity.

When he went inside, Mitch wasn’t on the floor anymore but Thomas was still curled up on the beanbag. He groaned and collapsed onto the bed thinking about how stupid it was to leave Thomas with Mitch. 

“Hey.” Stiles fell off the bed and yelped, surprised he didn’t wake up Thomas. That kid could sleep through a nuclear apocalypse. Stiles shook the thought from his mind and saw Mitch leaning against the frame of the door with his arms over his chest. 

Stiles nodded in his direction and Mitch walked in and offered him a hand. He pulled Stiles up and he bumped into his hard chest. What is he, made of stone? “I didn’t see you when I came in.”

“I know,” was all Mitch offered as he let go of Stiles.

Stiles rolled his eyes and sat on the edge of the bed solemnly. “Right.”

Mitch sat down next to him, “So your friend, the one I liked, is she going to be okay?”

Stiles huffed a laugh. It made sense that he liked her, they were similar in many ways. Soldiers constantly looking for a war to fight, and always fully prepared for battle. “She’s okay but isn’t waking up. The doctors don’t know what’s wrong with her, but I think it’s magic.” Mitch narrowed his eyes and questioned Stiles.

“It has to be it. There’s no other explanation. Oh! We also think the druid is working with an alpha as well.”

Mitch looked surprised and let out a heavy sigh. “You need to get some rest. I’ll keep an eye out and do some research.” 

“Mmkay.” Stiles was already curled up in bed falling asleep and Mitch smiled over him. He stood up and helped the mostly unconscious boy under the covers and removed Stiles’ phone from his pocket. He pulled up the name he was looking for and dialed the number. 

“No, it’s Mitch. Yeah. No. Can you meet me at the animal clinic in half an hour? Great.” Mitch hung up the phone and placed it on the table next to the bed. He looked at Stiles as he slept, then Thomas, and then left for the clinic.

~~~~~~~~

“Sheriff!” Jordan popped his head into the office. 

“Yes, Parrish?” Noah sighed and clasped his hands together as he rested his head against them. He had been working for almost 10 hours, not that it was new, but he was exhausted this particular morning. There was a mountain of paperwork to go through and he was still trying to figure out a way to explain the mess Stiles had caused. 

Jordan trotted into the room and placed a file of papers on the desk. Noah picked them up and started to sift through. “What is this?” He looked up to Jordan when he didn’t get an answer.

“Oh. So I was doing some digging. I thought, why would all these boys be at Wicked, and nobody noticed? Didn’t they have families? So I started looking them up and guess what I found!”

The sheriff stared at Jordan, waiting for an answer. He was in no mood to play guessing games. “Parrish.”

“Sorry, sir. Right. So,” Jordan pointed to a place on the paper, “every boy they were experimenting on is an orphan.”

“What?” The sheriff sat back in his chair as it squeaked and crossed his arms.

“Yeah! Either they were given up for adoption or their parents died with no next of kin. That’s why no one caught it, because no one was looking.” Parrish was overly proud of himself.

“Okay. Thank you, Parrish.” The young man gave him a curt nod and left the office. This was getting more complicated by the second and the sheriff felt like he only had a quarter of the picture. He needed more answers, so he grabbed his coat and headed to the hospital.

As soon as Noah walked into the building, Melissa saw him and he made his way to her. “Hey, Allison is still the same. No changes.” 

Noah looked bewildered, “What?” His tone was sharp.

“No one told you?” Melissa was surprised he didn’t already know. 

Noah pinched the bridge of his nose, “Apparently, being the sheriff of this town doesn’t make a difference for anyone to tell me anything.” Melissa let out a small chuckle and shook her head. She explained what happened and Allison’s condition. 

Realizing there was nothing that could be done at the moment, the sheriff moved the conversation into the direction he had originally planned. “The boys from last night, they checked them out, right?” 

“Yeah, why?” Melissa shifted as she leaned against the nurse’s station counter.

“Can I see their files?” Noah questioned. 

Melissa darted her eyes to the side and opened her mouth as she turned towards the sheriff. “Well, I can’t do that since it’s a violation of policy. But I do have some things that may pertain to the case if you’d like to see them?” 

Noah donned a large grin, “I sure would.” Melissa smiled back and she led him into the maze of corridors until they were in a large file room.

The walls were lined with shelves and paper folders that held each patient’s information, and a single computer that contrasted all the physical documentation. Melissa logged onto the machine and made her way through some screens until she pulled up the files Noah had asked for.

“There you go.” Melissa stepped back and gestured towards the screen.

“Thank you.” Noah sat down at the desk and searched through the archives for anything that stood out.

Melissa watched over Noah’s shoulder as he scrolled through file after file of all the boys that were examined. He scratched at the stubble on his chin, deep in thought as he read all the information. He didn’t quite understand most of it, not having a medical degree, but there were parts that made sense to him after spending what felt like a lifetime in hospitals between his son and wife. 

“Huh,” Noah huffed and tilted his head at the screen.

Melissa’s attention had been directed elsewhere at some point, but the break in the silence averted it back towards the sheriff. She walked towards him and tried to catch a glimpse of what he was looking at on the computer. “What is it? Did you find anything?” 

Leaning back in the chair, he processed what he had learned. There was a moment of silence before Melissa asked him a second time, startling the man from his thoughts. “What? Oh! Yeah!” He sat up and maneuvered the computer again. “You see this here?” He questioned while pointing at a specific spot on the screen.

“Yeah? It looks normal to me,” Melissa spoke as she examined the results of the blood work.

Noah grumbled a noise, somewhere between agreement and frustration as he switched the files. “Now tell me what you see here.”

Melissa combed through the digital document, everything seeming to be normal. She stopped as her eyes traced back to the bloodwork. She would have missed it if she wasn’t aware that she was looking for something out of the ordinary. The bloodwork for this patient was normal with the exception of one genetic marker that the previous boy shared. “Let me get a closer look.”

The sheriff stood up and motioned towards the seat, gladly offering her the chair. He watched as she sat and mulled over all forty-nine files. Her face was puzzled and excited all at once, piecing parts of the puzzle together. “Did you ever find out what they were doing to the boys in that basement?” She turned to face Noah.

He shook his head sadly, “No. The state took the case since it involved children and possibly human trafficking. They showed up twenty minutes after we did. Never had a chance to question the people we arrested.” 

Melissa looked at the screen again and worried her bottom lip, “I looked at all the files. It should be impossible, but all these boys share a single genetic marker. Now, this would make sense if they were related, but they’re all different ages and races.”

Noah let his head fall in defeat until he remembered what they had discovered with the chimeras last year. The dread doctors had used people in their experiments who had two sets of DNA from skin grafts and transplants. “Wait. Could that genetic marker have been put there? We know they were experimenting on them, so could they have been altering their DNA?”

“Hmm. It’s possible, but not likely.” Noah contested Melissa as he looked at her. “Yeah, you’re right,” Melissa spoke as she turned back to the desktop.

“Can you run that through the system to see if anyone else shares the marker?” Noah queried. 

“I can try, but it will limit the results to what we have on file. Nothing outside of that, you’d have to run them through your database if you want to widen the search.” Noah nodded in response as she started the process. “It’s going to take a while, you can stay here but I need to head back to my shift.”

The sheriff nodded, “I’ll call you when it’s finished. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Mitch pulled into the back of the animal clinic with the jeep, Stiles had told him he could use it if he ever needed to and saw that the all-black Camaro was already parked. He let out a huff of laughter through his nose when he saw it, of course, that’s what Derek drove.

He watched Derek exit the sports car as he hopped down from the jeep and the raven-haired man gave him a nod of recognition. Mitch returned it and walked over to the alpha. 

“Hey,” Mitch avoided eye contact, still not entirely sure if he could trust the werewolf.

Derek sighed and tucked crossed his arms over his chest and tucked his hands under his biceps. “Why are we here?”

Mitch looked at the man with a raised eyebrow. He was surprised he agreed to meet him, especially since he didn’t give him any explanation over the phone. “Did you hear about Allison?” 

Derek shifted his feet and let his shoulders fall slightly, looking to the ground and donning sorrow. He responded in a hushed tone and through gritted teeth, “Yes.”

“Did anyone tell you what happened?”

Derek relaxed somewhat and stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “Stiles called me not long after they took her to the hospital.” Derek shifted his gaze, “He told me…” Derek trailed off as he raised his fingers to the back of his neck, tracing over the spot that would hold a scar if he hadn’t had supernatural healing. He let his arm fall back down and looked up, “He told me what happened but they didn’t know why she wasn’t waking up. He texted me about an hour ago though. Said that he didn’t think it was something science could explain. I couldn’t really decipher his messages. He sends ten at a time and his train of thought is difficult to follow.” The man blushed and averted his eyes, seemingly embarrassed. 

Mitch pulled in his lip and nodded, taking up a defensive stance. He rubbed his chin the way Stiles often did and noticed the way Derek’s eyes lit up. It was subtle, but if he wasn’t trained to be so observant he would have missed it. “Stiles told me he thought it was magic too. None of us seem to know anything about magic, especially after last night—”

“Last night? What happened last night?” Derek took a step forward and dropped his arms to his sides, a hint of worry on his lips.

“Do they tell you anything?”

Derek looked down in shame, “Just Stiles. He keeps me in the loop as much as he can.” 

“Makes sense you didn’t know then. Stiles came into his powers last night. Actually, all three of us did, I think.” Derek offered a crazed look, his eyebrows showing confusion and shock. “Stiles used his magic to escape the Wicked facility. He couldn’t remember anything that happened at first. He collapsed and—” 

“What? Stiles has magic? Why didn’t he tell me?” Derek’s lip trembled ever so slightly and his voice cracked under the pressure in his chest.

“Well, as I said, he didn’t remember at first. Stop interrupting me.” Derek rolled his eyes but motioned for him to continue. “I didn’t see what happened, but Scott and Thomas did. Thomas said that Stiles had this light emitting from him, almost like lightning and then the light exploded outward. He threw all the guards coming for them backward like it was nothing and then blew out the whole wall of the building. The second it was over he passed out and when he woke up he didn’t know what had happened.”

Mitch took a pause and looked to the ground in thought. The three of them had agreed they weren’t going to tell anyone about what happened later that evening. They didn’t get knocked on their asses the second time they made the connection so when they came back to the room the trio was still standing and facing each other. There was a small glow between them, not actually visible, but still there like it was all of them at the same time. They felt tied to one another, a string linking them chest to chest. Some invisible tether that they could feel in their bones and something shifted in them.

Suddenly they could almost feel what the other was feeling like they were sharing everything. Thomas felt strong and confident to Mitch and exhilaration and boundless energy came from Stiles. Mitch felt guilty knowing they sensed him too, and that he was feeling frightened and overwhelmed. This was the first time someone had literally seen through his walls at how vulnerable he truly was, but neither of them said anything, thankfully.

They each shared what they saw, more or less. Mitch failed to mention the woman he saw was his dead fiancé, but it was an irrelevant detail in his opinion. The two boys could tell he was holding back but didn’t force it.

“Uhm,” it was unusual for Mitch to not be able to find his words, “After the three of us were alone, we all…touched at the same time. Something happened.” 

The scruffy brunette wasn’t particularly fond of revealing this information to Derek, but it had to be done for him to help the way he wanted. He needed the werewolf to understand. “We each went somewhere and saw something. When we came back we were connected and we think what we saw had something to do with the elements Stiles and I found in a book in Deaton’s office.”

Derek was listening intently, hanging on to every word and absorbing it. Mitch didn’t know why he was so focused on it all, but he wasn’t going to complain. He didn’t have many questions so he assumed Stiles had filled him in on it all for the most part. 

“So that’s why we’re here.” It wasn’t so much a question as it was a realization. Derek let a soft laugh escape his lips.

“Sort of. That’s part of it, at least. I figured there’s more that Deaton hasn’t told us. A lot more, actually. I also figured he may know something about Allison too.”

Derek nodded in agreement, “Why am I here?”

“You know him better than I do. You can tell if he’s holding out or lying better than I can, on multiple fronts.” Mitch glanced at Derek’s chest quickly, thinking of how he can hear someone’s heartbeat. 

“Okay. Let’s go see what he knows.” Derek stepped past Mitch and headed inside the building as the brunette trailed close behind.

They entered quietly and found their way to the main room where Deaton was working on a small dog. Slightly startled, he looked up from the pup and registered the two men, “Mitch. Derek. Can I help you?” He stood up and the animal remained still, likely under some kind of anesthesia. 

Mitch took the lead and answered without any room for doubts about his intentions, “We know there are things you’re not telling us about the druid. I think it’s time you tell us everything.”

The doctor looked to Derek who offered no support and a worried look fell upon his face. He looked to the canine and let out a small quiet sigh, “Let me finish up here and we can discuss any inquiries you have on the matter.” Mitch nodded and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket as Deaton motioned for the two of them to take a seat while they waited. 

Mitch watched the man work, bouncing his leg while he eyed the doctor. All his instincts told him not to trust Deaton, and he had no plans to, but he was the only source for information they had. After seeing what had happened to Stiles, and then when the three of them connected, he needed more insight. If there was one thing Mitch hated more than anything, it was not being prepared; the fear of the unknown. Being thrust into this world wasn’t easy and left him feeling vulnerable, so he needed to know every advantage he had. While he wouldn’t admit it, he was doing this for more than just himself; he was doing it for Allison and Stiles, even Thomas. 

Fifteen minutes had passed when Deaton picked up the tiny dog and took him into a room in the back with kennels. When he returned, Mitch jumped from his chair earnestly while Derek remained seated.

Deaton clasped his hands together, looking more relaxed than earlier, “So, how can I help you, boys?”

Mitch looked annoyed while Derek seemed bored, “What else do you know about the druid? Yes, you told us that vague tale about him becoming immortal, but there has to be more to it.”

Deaton showed no emotion or break in his blank features, or none that Mitch could see at least. The doctor pulled his lips back into a thin line, “I told you everyth-”

Mitch narrowed his eyes as he took a step forward, his words sharp, “Don’t give us that bullshit! Even I don’t need werewolf senses to know you’re hiding something.”

Deaton donned shock for a brief moment before returning to his neutral appearance.

“I don’t know what fucked up excuse you have for not telling us when this information could help…” Mitch was tired of playing games since he knew Allison’s life was on the line. He had no intention of revealing that fact to Deaton but he was becoming impatient, “…but we need to know. That son of a bitch did something to Allison and now she’s in the fucking hospital in some kind of magic coma.” Mitch’s voice was raised and his words seemed desperate. 

Mitch took a deep breath when he felt Derek stand behind him, no doubt to bring him some sort of reassurance. Mitch exhaled and continued, “Stiles said…he said there were marks on the back of her neck.” Derek flinched marginally, remembering his own mind being invaded by his uncle.

Deaton raised an eyebrow, showing emotion for the first time since the conversation started. He seemed tentatively concerned with that bit of information. He turned to Derek, “He’s here and took Allison? Is there a wolf with him? Have you sensed any other weres?” 

Derek shook his head implying no shifters had become known to him recently.

“So you agree that he’s working with an alpha?” Mitch questioned and Deaton stroked his chin in thought.

“It would seem so, but an alpha invading the Hale territories would raise warnings. Although, if the druid can cover the shifters scent that would explain why no one had noticed.”

Derek stiffened, “So an immortal druid with limitless power is running around Beacon Hills, doing whatever he wants, with an alpha that none of us can find?”

“It would seem so,” Deaton replied.

The three men stood in silence as they processed this information when Mitch broke the stillness, tearing them all from their thoughts. “What do you know about the druid elements?”

Deaton was shocked by the question and took a moment to compile his deliberations. “Well, typically there are three druid elements, unlike the very common idea of four. Instead of earth, fire, water, and air, it is calas, nwyfre, and gywar.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I know that” Mitch interjected which caught Deaton off guard. “What about magic? Can the elements be used as more than a source of power?” Mitch already knew this answer, but he was still wrapping his head around it. What happened to Thomas, Stiles, and himself was evidence enough that it could, in fact, be used as more than a source of power. 

“Not typically. The elements are more for a way of living and a representation of life and the world we live in. How nwyfre if the essence of life and what causes everything to be alive, gwyar is the imbalance of all things and how nothing is set in stone, showing how easily everything can change, and lastly how calas is the foundations of all living things, grounding us to the earth in one way or another.”

Mitch ushered him on to reach his point, becoming more impatient by the second.

Deaton cleared his throat, “I have never seen them used in the way you are speaking of. Most druid’s magic is from themselves, passed through generations and the source of the power is the earth and all living things. Every living thing has energy, its life source, and druids draw from that.” 

“That’s why the Darach made the sacrifices to the Nemeton?” Derek trembled minutely at the thought of Jennifer and the havoc she caused during that time.

The veterinarian nodded, “Yes. Those sacrifices gave her more power because she took their energy. This is why the rumors of the druid being so powerful are a mystery. His power has to be drawn from somewhere, but we have not seen any sacrifices. He’s using the life force of someone or something.”

“But what about magic?” Mitch pressed his still unanswered question.

“Druid’s don’t possess magic, it’s more like a connection. Their powers are limited and often require time, rituals, and ingredients to sustain whatever they are trying to accomplish. No one can snap their fingers and simply bend something or someone to their will.” 

Derek and Mitch gulped and looked to each other skeptically, piquing the other man’s interest.

“What? What is it?” Deaton’s heart started to race at the uncertainty in the air and Derek could hear it.

Mitch closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he debated the idea of revealing what he knows to Deaton. It was more than he had offered them when this all started. He could try to explain it, but he had no words and he had no idea how to begin to show either of them. He was getting frustrated and he was losing his grip on his emotions, everything he saw last night flooding back into his memories.

Derek sniffed the air, the smell of rain and rage. The hairs on his arm stood tall and he could feel static in the air. The aroma wasn’t strong, but enough to get his senses tingling. It was intermingled with the scent of Mitch; old leather, pines, and gunpowder. He reached out to place a tentative hand on the man’s shoulder and Mitch relaxed, feeling grounded back to reality. 

Opening his eyes, Mitch offered, “Obviously nothing goes by the book for you guys, so what if the elements weren’t just a source of power, but the power in and of itself?” 

Deaton stroked his beard, “It could be possible, as you say, nothing in the supernatural is ever predictable. There have always been a set of rules for this world for how things work, but I’m seeing more and more that they tend to not apply here in Beacon Hills.”

Mitch was unfamiliar with the things the man was referencing, but Derek was in the know. The black-haired man let out an unamused huff as he recollected the events of the last couple of years since he ran into Stiles and Scott in the woods. 

“Okay. Well, that’s somewhat helpful,” Mitch pulled his hands from his pockets and looked to Derek. “I think that’s all we need for now, but don’t be surprised if we stop by again.” He headed for the door with Derek close behind.

Deaton called out to them before they reached the exit, “You said something about Allison. A magic coma?” 

Mitch rolled his eyes and let out a sigh, scouring himself for letting that bit of information slip. He turned on his heel to face the vet, “Yes. Stiles said that all her tests came back normal but she still won’t wake up. The doctors have tried different solutions and nothing worked.” 

“Hmmm.” Deaton appeared deep in thought but provided no further response.

“Well,” Mitch threw his arms up irritated, “do you know something about it or not?” 

The doctor continued to consider for another short moment before he changed his stance, “I’m not entirely sure. Possibly, but I’d have to complete some research.”

Mitch grunted and turned back towards Derek and the door to leave. He expected nothing less from the older man at this point and made a mental note to return and follow up on his research.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stiles’ eyes shot open a split second before Thomas started screaming almost like he was anticipating the noise. In that minuscule moment, he felt paralyzed and filled with terror, and the worst part was that he didn’t know if it was his own emotions or if they were coming from someone else. 

The screams were deep and piercing, almost like a rumbling in his ears. He jumped out of the bed and started towards Thomas on the bean bag chair. The boy was still asleep and his eyes screwed shut, but he was anything but still. Hit movements rolled him from his spot and onto the floor as Stiles watched, petrified.

Stiles had had his fair share of night terrors and knew it wasn’t always wise to wake the person, but his instincts were to go to the younger boy. He stepped forward and was stopped by an invisible barrier. His eyes widened as he reached out cautiously to feel for the see-through wall. His hand laid flat against the barricade that kept him a good three feet from Thomas. Stiles’ eyes shot to the floor where the boy laid as his screams increased and his back arched up in what seemed like pain. 

Stiles was starting to panic and reached for his phone from his pocket, but it was missing. He cursed to himself and looked back to Thomas writhing on the carpet. “Damn it!” He banged on the hidden hurdle and screamed, “Thomas! Thomas, you need to listen to me! Listen to my voice!” 

Thomas couldn’t hear anything over his own cries of terror, the shield he created unknowingly already muffling out everything outside its vicinity. He wanted to run, run as fast and as far from everything as he could, that’s what he knew how to do, but his legs refused to move, stuck to the ground like they were caught in the mud. The world around him started to whirl and spin, a storm raging and crashing.

Stiles was utterly terrified and helpless, he couldn’t reach Thomas and didn’t know what to do. Everything inside the barrier started to stir as the boy’s screams grew even louder. There was a wind hurling things around, but not a single window open in the room. He was even more concerned for Thomas’ safety now than before, worried something might hit him.

His mind was racing and he needed to do something! Stiles had to do something. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply as he remembered a simple prayer he came across online during his research. He found time to surf the web on his phone while they waited for news on Allison. He chanted the lines quietly to himself,

“Calas, the form and the shape;

Gwyar, the flow and the change;

Nwyfre, the spark of life.

Sacred elements spiraling.”

He envisioned the triskele he had seen so many times before on Derek’s back when he spoke the words again. Just as Alpha, Beta, Omega was the anchor for the Hale pack, and The Sun, The Moon, and The Truth for Satomi’s pack, Calas, Gwyar, and Nwyfre became hi 

His eyes shot open and frisson set in on Stiles’ skin. This time, he was fully in control and looked in awe as electricity danced up his arms and around his hands. At the same moment, he saw Thomas still twisting but green waves of light shimmered around him. Tears were streaming down his face and his shouts were becoming soft whimpers.

Reaching out, Stiles continued repeating the appeal softly. He shut his eyes when his hand rested on the wall, imaging it fading away to allow him passage. When his fingers felt no pressure his eyes opened and he watched as the thick barricade dissolved before his eyes. He pushed the amazement aside and ran to Thomas through the gusts of wind. Without thinking, he fell to the boy’s side and reached out to grab him, but thankfully the green flames didn’t hurt him as he reached through them.

“Thomas! Thomas!” He shook the boy mildly in an attempt to reach him but all he got in return were his small mumbles of fear. 

“No. No, no, no, no. Please, no.” Thomas whimpered as tears left glimmering trails down his cheeks. 

Stiles gathered all the strength he could and held Thomas in his arms and held a hand to his chest. “Thomas! Wake up!”

The younger boy’s eyes flew open, an envious emerald and flames dancing in his iris’. He shot upright and let out short and shallow breaths like he had been underwater and lacked oxygen. His eyes flitted around with panic and uncertainty until he looked up to Stiles holding him. Thomas let out a long sigh and fell against Stiles’ chest and closed his eyes, letting his breathing even out. 

Thomas started to drift into sleep again and Stiles couldn’t believe it, convinced that this kid never did anything but sleep. He understood though, nightmares can make you feel even more exhausted than when you first closed your eyes. 

Stiles felt the boy grow limp in his hold as tiredness took him and looked around at the state of his bedroom. The computer chair was knocked over and by his bed instead of his desk, papers and books scattered in various places, posters and pictures hanging off the walls, and other casualties of the event. He rolled his eyes bemusedly but tightened his grip around Thomas, thankful he was finally able to get to him. 

~~~~~~~~~

Noah grumbled a sigh and twisted his wrist to look at the watch that rested there. It had been over an hour since he started the search in the database and the waiting had been tedious. He rolled his eyes, wondering if maybe he wasn’t thinking straight and making something out of nothing. Sitting up in the chair, his hand hovered over the mouse to the computer when it emitted a loud beep and the screen revealed the results of the search.

It informed him that the computer ran the genetic marker Mellisa and himself had found against every file in the system and had resulted in a single match with a certainty of 98.9%. The sheriff’s eyes grew wide and only needed to look at it for a few moments before he shouted, “God damn it!” He shot up from the chair and raced out of the hospital as quickly as he could back to his house. 

The screen was left open when Noah rushed out, the photo and medical file of the match results burned into the screen and staring back—Mieczysław Stilinski.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what you think! feedback is welcome.


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